Turning Around Inside Myself

I don’t want to be here. I seem to remember another place. A place where what I said was understood and I could say anything I thought or felt and it was always understood as deeply as it was experienced. I remember a place where I heard what was said and it never hurt or angered me. There was no you and me, only us; we all knew each other there, deeply and completely. There were no hidden cracks and dark corners we couldn’t share. It was all a fantastic playground for us to explore and frolic in.

Some how this place is different; what I think is, never is or was. My thoughts hack away at themselves, till there is nothing recognizable anymore. My feelings always twisted and shredded remnants of what they felt themselves to be; the true, lost in chaos.

I am turning around inside myself; inside my thoughts and feelings; pulling away from them as I begin to break free and escape from my hardened cocoon; layers of thoughts and emotions, held pasted together with sweat and tears; a cocoon which has held me captive for as long as I can remember.

I can feel my wings unfurl, damp from the tears of endless sleepless nights; wings with uncertain shudders unfolding, reaching ever so slowly, hesitantly to cup tiny bits of sky. I can feel it, the butterfly, ever so faintly, fluttering inside, all the while a mirrored world still reflects the worm I felt myself to be.

A mirrored world whose mirrors are only the polished shell of, my soon to burst cocoon. I feel the wings of the butterfly; opening, butterfly wings with the strength of an eagle as it prepares to fly beyond the sky.