Dearest, darling… thank you for being a voice that reaches out to me from this fog that I feel mired in. This off. This off that I can’t shake, that I put myself in as a recoil response—one twitch magnifying ten fold to thrust the entirety of what is me into a shut down.
I’m fumbling in the dark, hands pressed against the wall, scraping, swiping at any blunt protrusion, hoping to find the switch. I’d like to be that child once again, running into the glass… for at least she sees the outside, sees it and feels it so strongly that with something of wild and generous abandon, she runs headlong toward it.
Knowing about on and off is indeed something, something of a coup. But what to do with this knowledge, the so many questions it raises, the helplessness I feel in the face of it, and the desire to just stop falling into this pattern, to stop being so afraid, to stop forgetting that my fragility is also my strength.
I must continue to stand at the edge…… and reach.