Direction

It seems I've lost all sense of direction, my direction. Two months into 2007 and I have yet to find my way back. Searching, stumbling, I've allowed myself to become lost, once again back into the darkness. Finding excuse after excuse, I have allowed myself little time to search out, grasp, hold onto the truth, my truth. Somehow I have allowed myself to become complacent, contend with how things are, with how they have always been. Have I done this to spare pain to those loved, or truthfully have I done this to spare myself the pain I would endure when I looked into eyes that love me without question? Honestly, I do not know. What has become obvious, what is clear to these clouded eyes of mine is that, I'm am sabotaging my own life, I see it, I know it, but I cannot prevent it.

It is evident here, the one place I allowed myself freedom, the one place I allowed myself, to be mine, and mine alone. The one and only place I could be me. In the beginning, it struggled to live, but the words, my words gave it life. It allowed me a place to share a side of myself that had always been but never allowed to be. I had finally found a place of belonging, a place to openly be me, a place of friends. So I ask myself. Why? Why would I sabotage the one place I can be me without any judgment or condemnation. Why would I sabotage my haven against the insanity of my own mind. Why do I find myself searching, stumbling, once again surrounded by the darkness, lost to both myself and to you.

In The Shadows

I am being followed! Someone is there, I know it, I can feel his presence, I can sense it. Following, lurking in the darkness, hidden behind shadows, watching my every move, a spy, a secret agent, a man, his face I can not make out. Walking when I walk, his steps mirror my steps, their sound echoing in my ears, he is there, behind me, following me.

I STOP!

I freeze in mid-step, trying to catch a more audible sound, but he stops as instantly as I. I stand there, I listen, I hear nothing, there is only silence, a deafening quiet. I know he is there, even though his footsteps no longer haunt my ears, I can still feel his presence. I know it is not possible, it must be my imagination, my mind playing a trick on me, his silenced footsteps have been replaced with the sound of his heartbeat. I can hear his heartbeat, I can feel his heartbeat, it beats in tune with mine. Thump . . . thump . . . thump. . .

There are no bed covers to pull over my head as I did as a child, scared of the night, even more afraid from having watched a scary movie, movies of monsters and creatures of the night. I am not afforded bed covers of warmth and safety, I will not find any here. It is time, to face the man.