Desensitization of the Day
No, I cannot be your model individual. My skin is studded with worries & glass. I’m a charade. I write in half truths because fear pumps through my tattered veins these days.
No, I cannot show you my wounds because I’ve lost too many people already & another ghost face I think I see out of the corner of my eye on a windy night might be the next one to nudge me over this bridge.
No, I know there’s no getting better. I will only get better at carving out moments I can convince everyone that I’m fine. & I am. You can tell by word counts & which songs I’m singing in the morning.
No, you’re doing enough. Believe me. I’m aware of my burdens & that they are mine to bear. I’m grateful I have something, ya know? I’m thankful for every moment I grow old. You see, I want that. To me, it’s a gift. I want to see my elder face in the mirror.
No, I’m not always lamenting. I just save my rejoicing for Creator’s ears. I’m dust in a great eye. I’m patched in many places, but I’m still right here.
No, I can’t feel that. I’ve gotten used to numbness. No, cotton sheets lash at me, wool is a cactus on my skin. Other skin against mine feels the bad kind of electric. The breeze flowing by feels like it leaves marks. Wind welts. I’m just overexposed today. The nerve endings are raw.
No, it’s not always like this. There are moments of softness & delicate reprieve. There are lulls in the terrible waves. Dips in my brain’s ability to properly process the pain. There are feather light touches that radiate into soothing comfort. There are times when I’m whole & only a cracked shell of myself again.
Thistle Thoughts 