PERSONALIZED GUILT CRYSTALLIZES in her chest. The narrow cavity grows tight and she can taste shame on her tongue.
Is nothing she does good enough? Why is she so emotionally weak? What is one day worth, where words sang vibrantly in sentences which slept on a sea of calm and serene potential for the first time in a long while, when lost to the sun’s heat and personal gloom and anxiety? What are lost words worth? But then, why does she get lost so easily, wandering for days amid empty gray hollows?
The crystal sharpens and she can feel its sting piercing her interior sense of self.
Why is she so worthless when she finds it so hard to return to the life-rhythm she wants to live when what she tried to accomplish – that which would gives her life meaning – was ruined?
Written: 21 Feb 2016
Inspired: life + last six days and why I haven’t been writing a lot. (Well, this and traveling)