Reminders

*Spoiler Alert - The picture below may not be suitable for everyone*

So many things can make you dredge up the past:  faces, a smell, a picture, a sound . . . a thought.  And when you come face-to-face with that emotion, it can often be too difficult to erase.  Been there, done that.  Reminders are more than just an alert from a calender -- telling you it's the anniversary of something you'd rather forget.  Maybe the reminder is to try and forget -- putting your energy into something else more time consuming.  Whatever it is, reminders can also be a trigger.  

I must say, placing this picture (taken a while back) in my blog was beyond one of the most impacting, yet extremely terrifying moments I've had to overcome.  Just as the following poem that leads after (will be posted soon). 

I'm such an enclosed person, that I never discuss my own emotions -- never wanting to be bothersome.  Most of my friends come to me to vent, but I never let it go the other way.  I'm there -- a bouncing board of ideas as to what to do -- how to stay calm -- how to breathe -- how to be positive.  Why hasn't that worked for me?  Why, now, must I write about the past?  Well, because it just seems to continue bringing its way back into my present being.  And I'm secretly hoping it never makes it to my future.  

Yes, I've tried to kick the habit of being my own psychiatrist -- prescribing my own remedies for unwanted thoughts -- Still trying.  Yes, I've gone days, weeks, months even, without resorting to those habits.  But just as one small whiff of odor can set one into a tail spin, so can one unblocked and blurry image.  

Moment by moment -- that's what happens.  I don't see myself as a person venting.  However, now, I see myself as a person FINALLY being able to speak.  And I hope that in time, I can speak about other moments.

"No more maybe's"

I watched her.  I watched from inside.  Peered from above.  And listened intently, because I knew something would protrude its way from under her staccato'd breathing.  But it didn't.  Maybe she never saw me.  Maybe the daze caught her for too long.  Took away her capabilities, just like it took mine.  I watched her.  She never moved.  Never.  Not once.  And I listened.  She said nothing.  I wondered when her actions would take place, but they didn't.  When those sharp pains subsided, she looked up, at me.  Still, nothing.  So, I watched, again.  Those once sharp pains, didn't seem like anything anymore.  The jabs were like clock work, and were persistent.  I wondered if she felt anything anymore.  Maybe she had disappeared . . . I wanted her to disappear -- from the outside, just as she did on the inside.  Maybe then my hovering would fall into one.  And she'd move.  Watch me.  Feel something.  Or maybe she knew how to control it.  That moment.  Those minutes, which went on for too long.  Or just maybe, as her daze sunk in deeper, she fell further.  And maybe she wondered too --  why my eyes were open and yet I never saw it happening.  Because if I did, why didn't I catch her?

~Kyra C.