Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Hold On, Let Go


Claustrophobia must feel like this. So much has happened, so much has changed, yet the stillness is not letting me get even one word out. Wish I could write about it, but I probably don’t have the right, or the strength; about this: this which has engulfed me, a thick blanket as comforting as a warm hug, as suffocating as a clamped mouth. Not a word gets out, not a sigh stays in. Closed, hushed and repressed, like a secret must remain; yet, bursting with the life of a much dreamed joy. How do I get out of it? Or how do I let it out? Has it trapped me or have I buried it deep? This must be it, must be what they call claustrophobia. A thick mist enclosing me or an emptiness waiting to burst out, that my mind cannot seem to enclose much longer. If I break free, who will pick up the broken pieces? If I hold tight, what if I crush it? If I let go, what if it takes me with it? If I hold on, what if I am left with nothing? This must be it. Claustrophobia must feel like this.

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