I was

Trapped in a tumultuous turmoil of trepidation and insecurity, a tourniquet of timidity restricting any temeritous thoughts from flowing forth to fruition;

in a word, overwhelmed.

I was

a daily desire to put thoughts to paper, with a blackened weight ‘round my chest whispering

“Why even try?”

I was an amalgam of self-doubt, self-pity and selfishness,

so sure of the darkness I never bothered to try turning on the light

I was

lost in my own mind, trapped in the torturous cage I’d created

Until

Fumbling fingers found strength to reach out, embracing the darkness

finding not further discomfort, but a key

 

I am

standing at the edge, above the abyss

Watching the ocean of my thoughts bubble and churn

Waves crashing higher, pressure bulding, I can taste the salt on my lips as the waters rise--

And it explodes: words, thoughts, emotions dripping from my fingers,

staining my paper instead of staining my thoughts

Gushing out a maelstrom of perfect imperfection, a tidal wave surely but dammit I will weather this storm

And when it is finished

(uncensored, warts and all)

This product of every night spent awake asking “Who am I?”

Tells not the story of who I was

But who I am.