Wednesday, August 4, 2010
chances are there’s a reason we’ve been left here
"If you're going through hell keep going.". Those words have been playing in my head when there seems to be no way out. I don't keep going; I panic and freeze where I'm standing in the flames, burning alive and unable to breathe. The obvious way seems to move forward, but that means continuing through the flames and darkness, not knowing if it will end or keep getting worse. I could turn back the way I came, but it's been a lifetime of stumbling and falling; the way back was lost a long time ago. I take steps forward, but they are tentative, fearful, and often more painful than staying where I am. What I really want is for someone to reach down and grab me, to pull me out or send for help. I have spent a lifetime with a throat worn raw from screams gone unheard, nails filed down to the quick trying to claw my way out. No help is coming. I know this and yet I can't seem to let it go. It is a frayed rope dangling from my waist, and I cling to it even with the knowledge that there is no one at the other end; no one but the idea of a person, a force, something that will hear me and see me and reach me, giving me permission to let go of hell and push forward.
But maybe that's an excuse too. Maybe at this point it doesn't matter that no help is coming; it's too late. I am the one who can't let this go,who spins around in circles in and out through hospital doors pretending this is better than dying.