Too late to run.
Like the cracks of bottles when it hits the ground leaving a resounding fear so I saw my life break into millions. I was undeniably helpless now but I couldn’t see it.
The rush, the tension, and the need to do better engulfed the bitterness welling up from within me, I knew it and I was unapologetic about it “but I’m not ready yet…”
I could sense it catching up with me from miles away yet I managed to wave it off, it was a lot easier to just say, ‘I’m fine’, than to sit around feeling sorry for myself.
The first two weeks I succeeded in beclouding myself with the constant hustle bottled with the overwhelming need to do the needful to put something presentable on the table.
Yet stench still wouldn’t go away, it kept lingering on and on in my head like a nursery rhymes my Mama sang while I was a baby ‘Bla bla black sheep, have you any woo….’
I don’t know how much longer I can do this, but I know I had to let the past be in the past. It lingered on, but this time around I have to be an adult, I have to use my head. Oh yes I looked bigger now, but I wished I could get back that joy I had lost trying to be bigger, even God couldn’t help me this time.
I knew I had to face my fears, and accept my faults and deal with it. I just couldn’t see myself move past, that moment, and day that turned me into a living-ghost. The pain was unceremoniously buried underneath the stress leaving me stuck. I couldn’t afford to open that door, it’s too expensive now.
I wish I could just move on as though nothing happened, I wish I could just loose my memory and start afresh, I wish…..!!!
I couldn’t help myself from feeling guilty, as I lived everyday dying slowly.
Lord! Where are you?