Present Tense
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.