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Miles to go

As Robert Frost once said, “But I have I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.” I love that piece of literature, I feel that it is the exact quote to describe me, in this moment. I have promises to maintain, no matter the suffering inside, the hollow aches I get at night, I have promises. Or a promise to be more exact. A promise to stay alive, to keep going, keep trying to keep going. I am, everyday, in the works of staying with that promise. No matter the aches that startle my core, my being and threaten to bring me tumbling down. To have me gasping and grasping for an inkling of solace and silence. I sleep to Mozart now, even still I hear the echoes. They bounce off my wall and make shadows on the ceiling. Dancing and taunting, turning more sadistic and claim to be rot and try to drip the evil back into my mind. I know there is already a seed blooming inside and near the back, out of reach of thought, but even still affects my every memory, feeling and movement. I try to move and shout at the ceiling. Anger that is hatred in full aspect, building to blow some gasket. And yet the shadows keep molding and melting into terror until I come to the acceptance I am frozen in time and paralysis is real. A single tear secretly slides down the side of my face and drips onto my ear and then onto my pillow. Even then, in that horrifying moment, I know it will end eventually. I know it is not real but still it is the definition of horrifying fear to me. Outlandish and masking the echoes to keep reminding me every single fucking night. Even still, I keep my promise. I take the prescribed tranquilizers that are supposed to equalize me, I just feel numb. I want to sleep, but I know what happens at those times of weakness. When I can no longer hold it off, I slip into myself and curl into the hollow resting beneath my chest. I try to wait it out, fight it, forget it, ignore it, live it, accept it, try to escape it. But in those moments, I am completely and utterly weak and in no control. Which fucks me up the most because what little control I have left is everything to me. It’s a sliver of what it once was, like me but it’s what I have. So to be stripped of that, even if it’s temporary, makes everything seem worthless and bleak. In those moments I wish I would die. Be at peace and finally know solace. But I have promises to keep, And many many miles to go before I sleep. Sleep…

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