I am tangled in the story line.
One moment spiraling skyward, the next falling into a war zone in my mind. A single blink in time and I find myself gasping for air, desperate for solid ground. For the peaceful calm of reason and logic. For a chance to hit the reset button and start again. Once more, with feeling, but not this one. That one. The one before the pedestal crumbled beneath my feet, reminding me I am always just another flower in this lush garden. It’s all I can ever be.
And now the gentle touch of rain, once calming, once reassuring, once nourishing, feels like betrayal, though I know it shouldn’t.
Though I know it isn’t.
I am terrified that this cannot be undone. That I’m at the mercy of my deepest fears. My darkest insecurities. My fiercest demons.
And that the rain might never feel the same again.