Mar. 09, 2004 - 11:04 a.m.
There's a weight on my soul this morning. So many loose ends on my journey through this life that I wonder if I will be bound to repeat all my mistakes a dozen times, in countless lifetimes as payment for my horrible habit of running when things get to much to bear.
I marvel that so many individuals have held up my inner strength as an example they wish to model their lives after. I feel so weak and fragile. How can others see strength when all I see is a lost and lonely, little girl.
Sometimes I feel as if my life has merely been a series of choices that left me with few options. A choice between a greater and a lesser evil, if you will.
I get so weary from mending broken lives with broken tools. And everything is held together with bits of tape and discarded wire, hopes and prayers. And these days the hopes and prayers are weaker than the discarded bits.
I dig into my soul to find the answers, but the hole only gets deeper and wider with each passing day.
I feel a needle against the back of my thigh; a dagger in the gut; a slow leak, this bleeding wound that ties me to you; tail feathers singed in exquisite bliss, sleek fur against my back, and an aching crack in the front of my skull.
But they are just ghosts of memories, rarely solid enough to take shape in my mind.
Even the fantasy has darkened and the stage of my mind is eerily silent. I just feel empty and used up in the deepest part, in the part that makes this life worthwhile.
But you call again for this fragile strength to hold you together and build you up and satisfy your needs and take the pain and the doubt and cleanse it from you. I am only one soul, and I am tired.
So achingly tired.
