I’m trying to sink back into my own arms but they’ve been tied behind my back because I’m a prisoner of my mind. I’m grappling with my own thoughts- they toss me on the floor and spit in my face. I laugh through gritted teeth because I know their weakest points. I know what makes them surrender. I hold the key but sometimes I can’t bring myself to unlock the fucking door. Now everyone is pounding it down and the hinges are caving in. Why can’t I keep the darkest parts of healing to myself without feeling like an open wound? That’s the trickiest part. That’s the part that no one understands. That’s the part where I raise my palms to the sky and it’s your turn to decide if I’m surrendering. It’s all magnetic, really. Pushing and pulling until one gives and it’s hard to stand up when a force out of your control brings you to your knees- I still can’t stand the fuck up after all these years. I empty bottles in my hallway incase I need fuel for a flame because we all know that I can breath fire. This entire thing can turn into nothing so quickly. Sometimes it all feels like nothing matters. Would you tell me if you felt nothing but fear for me? It’s a flashback like a film reel in a real dark place, except this is real life. I promise you can’t wake up from it- but I’m still trying. I hope you believe me, still. Let my wrists fall to my sides. Look up. Look up. Look up at the sky. AMT