Sylvia


I am infatuated with my depression and craziness,
I understand Sylvia’s expression.
I have been at the edge,
thoughts of death in my head.
Reality slips in,
thoughts of those who care,
keeps me here.
***
When I was younger,
the prime of my youth,
dreams were dashed.I had no reason to live.
Invisible, told I was beyond repair.
I feared I would never be found.

Silence spoken charges the soul.
Beauty moves the wind,
landing on the lips of a rose.

I was given an invitation to be part of The Nutcracker production in third grade and told no by my mother. I still dream of dancing. There is nothing in this world to replace those wings. Within, I still mourn when I go to a Ballet.

I hid in my room to practice, dreaming of making it in New York. Nothing was too daunting. I would rise on my toes, piroutte, with splendor, rigorously demanding more of myself. The music rousing emotions. I flew and noticed nothing but the music. No one existed in my world. 

I try to write with as much passion. I certainly would rather dance than speak. I feel exposed writing and unable to remove myself from people’s stares. Self-confidence lacking unless I’m part of the atmosphere.

I have been in therapy for a long time and that experience has loosened the chains that bound me in fear. The rope around my neck, the taunts of my voices. It is a brave experience to lay bare my vulnerability. My dance. When thought in that way I am free, it washes over me. Resurrects, a broken girl made whole. A clay pot repaired with gold, as precious as any applause. Actually I refrain from the applause, not because I am not grateful, rather the sadness it invokes. The lost dreams, a reminder of what could have been. The infatuation with my depression exists. The craziness rising, energy to keep going. To never give up.

I am. 

5 thoughts on “Sylvia

  1. . beware of your own negative thoughts….thoughts are just thoughts.The intense agony may be just a magnification of negative events in the past.Enough space still exists in your life to cherish beautiful dreams..dream with me. ….it is cost effective…..(tickled just to make you laugh…).

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 🌞 i write the intensity of remembered emotion. Hiding and unable to be seen. Shame? Perhaps. Depression? Most definitely. The passion I get from my words, when I indulge in negativity, is a habit I cannot release because it feeds an inner hole that repels humor. Sometimes I am able to gravitate to the happy. It is truly where I wish and battle daily to reside.

      Wow, I said a lot. πŸ˜‚β€οΈπŸŽΆπŸŽΆπŸŽΆ

      Liked by 1 person

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