What Do I Want?

This post is a trail of collaborated thoughts spawned from various things I read and personal interactions recently. My mind has meandered into the question “What do I want?” Since I was a child there has been a longing, some sort of gaping hole that I felt in the metaphorical place that people claim certain feelings lurk within our bosom. My heart pounds rapidly, deeply, the thumping of a drum that continues to be fluid except for that one off beat skip, a silence then, and an echo back to the proper rhythm where I feel content. I do not recall a time in which the hollowness was not there. I cannot remember a time that I did not feel the brum, brum, brum, PANG, brum. What is that emptiness that cannot be fulfilled? I have tried so many things to sew up that painful lesion.

Many addictive band aids of all sorts, religious type glue, and even attempting to tear it wide open.

My hidden cavern tucked away — a vacancy that gives the impression that I am the only one who feels this. That I am the only one who knows what it feels like to walk in the trenches of a wasteland. I hide it well behind my eyes and my smiles. It is covered up with my laughs and silliness. But it is always there. The smiles, laughs, and silliness can be real, but the chasm is still there. Many times I am perfectly fine; I have made friends with the hollowed portions of me. We are good. I am not afraid of it. I find comfort in my favorite poets during these times. I recite Edgar Allen Poe’s Alone with a glimmer and a spark. Sometimes it feels black and void, but I am not afraid of darkness … there is not a lot of things that I am afraid of. If I were to narrow it down my biggest fear is rejection and being invisible, I have mentioned that before.

I think my wounded hole manifests its existence more so when I am anticipating rejection or confused by social situations.



Continued ... What Do I Want?