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The Abyss

So here I am, once again.
Enveloped in the sea of my ever deepening emotion. I continue to block out. 
Choosing to ignore and numb a lifetime of anguish from emotional pain.
My memories are tidal, crashing, crushing waves.
Each one tears away another piece of myself. 
Threatening to expose more truth that I just can't bare to look at.
Another layer of trauma added.
The newest one, breaking me down. 
Coz that is just my normal.
How can you forget to breath. 
I pray and I bellow, up and out. 
To the gods I ask, why won't you just take me out.

Always treading the waters, the cruelst pursuits of life.
I know not any different.
The torment of my feelings, they do masserate every fibre of my being. 
My thoughts they deepen, permeate this walking nightmare, that is my living state.
I just want to close my eyes and fall into the eternal sleep. 
Because when I sleep I don't think.
Every time that I wake. 
Its further down into the deep.
The weight of waking life like barotrauma, a crushing heap. 
To the vast obyss of death, I beg my soul to keep. Further into the casym, it takes me deeper and deeper down.
A slave to Davy Jones and his eternal locker. 
He laughs at me. Here again I see. 
Then with a roll of his eyes he asks. 
Do you still fear death. 
Yes says I, and once again I float awake.
For years I lived in that abysmal state.

Then one day something changed. 
I looked around at the water trying to surround me. A piece of drift wood trawing on its way. I swam to it and I was no longer drowning.
I braced myself and engaged for the next new waves. But they didn't come.
Now on a life raft that I had made. 
I some how know the way to break these waves. Years of  Storms. I know how to ride this out. The warmth of my inner smile begins to burn. Kindling my soul, you are so ing brave. 
I see the shore line in the distance and that's where I'm headed. 
Old Davy J laughs through gusts and blasts, bellowing in the sky. 
Do you fear death. 
No, whispers I. 
I fear no storms, my soul knows the way.
For I have survived it all.
I did it, and I will continue to do it, in my own very special way.

Copyright © Victoria Andrew

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Book: Reflection on the Important Things