I’m looking at the water within me.
It is a storm that wants to overtake me,
pummel away at the foundations
that I have built, the balance, the stability.
I have a fleeting moment
where I want to give in,
let the water overtake me,
the storm loud and taking away
all sound except for the rushing of water.
Yet, there are other sounds,
words that gurgle to the surface
of the water and I turn away from them,
but I can still hear them:
stupid, nothing, useless, idiot.
They are words that I’ve heard before,
words that I’ve said to myself all too often
much as I’ve weathered the storm.
I know the caress of its waves very well.
Watching the water as it undulates,
trying ever so hard to wipe everything
of myself away, I stare back at the wet void
and speak some words of my own:
awesome, fabulous, super, wonderful.
I know that the water is looking for a way in,
hoping that I didn’t put enough force
behind the words, that I don’t mean them.
I wait and for a millisecond I think
that the water will win, that it will take over.
However, the foundations hold.
I look at the water that I’ve held back and realize
that I meant the words after all.
This thought fills me with light.
I watch my beautiful emotions,
remembering well when I would let them
take me over. As I watch, the water
finds a new pathway that wasn’t there before.
I open my eyes and turn away
from the storm that so wants me to succumb.
Not today, I say to myself.