There is passion inside of my soul. A passion that tickles my belly so intensely that the waves of emotions are force outside of my body. Barely able to stand. I feel my ankles begin to weaken like weather exposed paint. Afraid to allow passion to completely consume my being as if the sun were rising and shining it’s warm beams of light. Why does this warmth scare me? Why am I so afraid of allowing my deepest dreams to take me to the highest mountain, whose air is so thin I can hardly breathe. What is keeping me captive like an elephant in a zoo who knows no other world than what has been given to it? After asking myself all the questions I could possibly think, I realized… the only thing holding me back, is me.
It’s me, it’s me. I’ve been the one holding the key to my own door of eternal happiness. A happiness that knows no hate but only peace. Peace that feels like rolling around on the plushest of grass. Peace that feels like napping to the sounds of waves crashing. Peace that feels like you’re safe and loved like your favorite blanket that you wrap yourself with when you’re scared of the monster under your bed. I took my blanket and crawled under my bed to fight my demons face on. When I saw nothing was there, I realized… it was me.
I am the demon which causes my sleep paralysis waking me up and unable to move. I am the panic attack that forces me into seclusion when I really want to be brave. I am sadness that fills my eyes with salty drops of regret. It’s me, it’s me.
I am the one who tied the anchor to my feet. It’s me, it’s me.