12/29/07

Twist and turn. In one second I am clinging on tightly afraid to show any sign of vulnerability. In the next second everything has gone up in smoke.

"Burning bridges is a form of suicide."

If that is true then I am killing myself ever so slowly. For surely I have been pushing people away and cutting the ties that bind. Why else would certain people be gone?

The winter has set in. Deep within my bones I can feel the chill of the snow, the ice. I find myself looking in the mirror more and more frequently wondering where the girl that used to be so happy, so full of life, went. She has been replaced with the person you talk to most of the time. The girl who has terrible mood swings. The girl who has pushed her family away and has led them to believe she hates them. The girl who is keeping many secrets.

As I sit here wishing I had someone I could sit and share every thought with (though truthfully there is only one person with whom I think I will be able to do that) I am constantly wondering where in the world I went wrong. I am brought back to a point in January. That's when I began this slow decline.

I was fine for a while that month. I thought It would be okay. I didn't want to repeat what had happened around the same time the previous year. But January turned into February. Fears became reality. Last resorts turned into things that brought comfort.

The path had split somewhere along the way. For some godforsaken reason I had chosen to take a path into desolate and fearful lands. Where even the slightest upset in the waters will cause your boat to capsize and sink. The depths of your own mind take you prisoner and the weight of your thoughts suffocate you.

I cannot find my way back.

I am not sure I will be able to even with help.

A chagrin mood has followed me this night. I cannot shake it. I must simply let it run it's course.

But the past, coupled with events from the present, make it so hard to forget. Hard to forgive. Hard to even breathe.

Emotion takes hold at every turn.

I take it by the hand, along with it's sharp witted accomplice, and dance into a deadly game of Russian Roulette.