Prisoner

I’m so tired but I can’t sleep. Ghosts are ripping my chest apart. I breathe deep but find no breath. I focus on what I know to be true. It is true that there is nothing wrong. I take another breath. It is true that it is time to go to bed. I breathe again. It is true that I may suffocate in my sleep if I am not able to gain breath when I breathe. The mind is lost again. I can hear my heart in my eyes. They shake behind the lids as my heart tries to gain rhythm.

I get up and walk to the kitchen to gain perspective. It is true that this anxiety in my chest is not my fault or anyone else’s. It is true that I was so afraid of not being able to tap into the one chance I had at being good at anything, that I stopped taking the only thing that made me good.

I cry tears that aren’t mine. They are a symptom of selfishness and hope. They flow without my consent and laugh, as my face grows hot. I am a prisoner of my mind and grow weaker in my cell.

One Reply to “Prisoner”

  1. “Cogito ergo sum. (I think, therefore I am.)” ― René Descartes

    Nothing external can ever make an individual good or great, the external simply provides the individual a choice for acceptance or change. Control is ours when we realise that not much falls into the category of acceptance and we do have the power of change; first hurdle are our thoughts.

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