More Free on My Own

I miss the excitement that used to come when a text popped up on my phone. I haven’t felt that feeling in forever. But I suppose that’s also why I haven’t felt pain in awhile either. It’s rare to have one without the other – infatuation without suffering. In those times it’s a 50/50 chance of which emotion will overtake each day.

It might be a choice, but when we allow ourselves to become obsessed, we give our choices to another human. We give them the power.

Being numb isn’t ideal – being caught in the middle where there’s nothing to feel. It’s almost as if no emotion is real. I grimace at other people’s thrill. I am me, still, just with no desire to kill, and no dreams to fulfill.

Run and hide, read by candlelight. The morning will bring an unfortunate surprise. Wait in silence, distract your mind. No one can predict what we will soon find. If we are blind, then we waste all our precious time.

It’s late and I’m tired, and the lyrics are perfect. They’re old men, yet we’re the same. Broken hearts. Lost souls. Nowhere to go. Holding onto hope. They understand what I feel and they know.

Thank you for giving me something to hold. Through turmoil and growth, rising and falling, moving on and letting go, graduations and deaths, life and discovery, and a decade of silence – you still manage to have my heart. Isn’t that crazy? To you it means nothing. To me, it’s a prison.

The hold is no longer unbreakable, though. I am more free on my own.


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