Humbled
“I simply cannot believe it. I cannot wrap my tiny, single-track mind around it. I cannot write it. I cannot speak it. I cannot stop thinking about it. I will probably never record it in this journal, but I will use it. In plays, books, stories, I will tell it. Through so many different eyes, I will tell it. I feel so awful I have chosen to forego feeling at all. I do not understand myself. I am slipping. I cannot bring myself to feel anything but sick. I feel as if my mind is in a constant state of the over-salivation stage that normally takes place in your mouth before vomiting. I do not feel anything. I can think and think and think and it does me no good because my spirit has been suffocated. It is buried deep beneath a sea of shame and it will wait to re-emerge. I am not scared. Something tells me I should be, yet I do not fear the future. I am anxious and nervous, but not afraid. Despite logic, I trust myself. I should not, but I do. I trust. What will become of me? I am so vulnerable. I am at the mercy of the universe and circumstance. I am a leaf on the ocean, being tossed about by waves. I hope they are gentle, I hope they are kind. I deserve nothing. I ask for mercy.”
