I have a story deep inside me. It moves like a hibernating
dragon. Slowly breathing in a
roar. Randomly twitching like a sleeping dog chasing a rabbit through
Andalucian dream fields. And then going silent until it is forgotten. But this
story, like a body bag, drags behind me when I travel, sits on my chest as I
sleep and whispers in my ear when I am eyes are closed. It tells me lies and
for so long I have been listening without realizing that it is time to break up
with this story. It needs to be set loose in greener pastures.
When I run it runs faster. When I sleep it watches me. When
I dream it thwarts me.
So this story is not of me or for me. Like a cancer it has
been thriving and resides inside my rib cage. It is time to start cutting and
scrapping.
The only problem is that it means I have to go back to all
those places I left and swore never to return to.
No comments:
Post a Comment