When did we start folding our souls like an origami of backspaced texts? When did we decide to play Russian roulette of “what ifs” before displaying fragments of our hearts to people? When did we become security guards with 7 years of experience to keep an eye on the people who wandered in our minds? When did we master the warfare of defense mechanisms with self-depreciating jokes? When did we construct an outpost to prevent the softness of vulnerability?
I am tired of holding shields, living in a landslide zone of uncertainty. I am tired of breaking myself into bite-sized pieces, waiting to be served as hors d’oeuvres of scrutiny.
So, today let me take you to the labyrinths of my mind. Let me show you the fragments of my soul that have become connoisseurs of dust in the attic.
Creative faeries are fixing the bulb of ideas. Brewing a herbal soup of words when feelings become a rollercoaster ride on Saturn rings, spilling oil paints when vulnerability tries to escape wearing dresses of art.
Monsters are hiding in the closet looking up at the glow in the dark stars, weaving dreams of forbidden love. Shh, they are growling. My hands are on my ears, I am afraid I have bitten my tongue off while suffocating sobs. It is static. Static. Static.
Memories are spinning a ballerina on Für Elise. My eyes crinkling like wind chimes, giggling and dancing with my sister when the sky seems to be crying. I got a red star for taking care of my plant and a hug from my mum without a reason.
That’s a polaroid of a friend who sends me dog videos on Instagram, that is the first letter to my beloved. Here is an archive of poems I wrote when my vocabulary didn’t know the word “vulnerability”.
Now, watch me climb down the ladder.
Watch me, I am trying to resign as a security guard. Watch me, I am unfolding the origami of my soul. Watch me because I am tired of being broken down into bite-sized pieces.
I will stay whole, shamelessly.
Let them choke.
//”Unlocked Outposts”// Enigma
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Picture Credits: Enigma (Inktober 2020 Art Day 15 Outpost)