The Child

Woke up this morning, without the drive to get out of bed. Woke up early this morning, took me two tries to get out of bed. Even then, the world outside my bed felt cold. Felt boring. Felt so bland.

So I had a bland breakfast. Ate mac & cheese with a cup of water. Sitting on the couch, I thought about how utterly boring mac & cheese is, but now much I crave it's comfort. I compared it to other ethnic foods. The exotic spices and variety of color in dishes that come from overseas, while I looked upon my yellow slop and took another mouthful. I went for seconds.

This entire week has been a lazy one for me. I should mention that it was without the help of medicinal herbs. My troubles have been keeping me in bed until about noon, in which time I lay around for another hour before rising. Silly, no?

I keep thinking about things I have no control over. I keep thinking about myself as the child. Keep thinking about how much I identify with that. As much as an adult I am, with adult responsibilities and an adult front, I act very much like a child. I think like a child. I'm always scared and so very confused. I'm always looking for an authoritative figure to validate my thoughts and to secure me from harm. I'm always trying to hid and often in places only children could fit.

I wonder why. I wonder what has brought me to this state of mind. Is it because I was robbed of a childhood? What else could it have been like if the situation was different? If I could have lived what some would say a normal, average, healthy up bringing - would I still feel so lost?

Do I hate that I associate all the years of my life previous to this moment with anguish? No. I only hate that I'm so confused, so scared, and so sorry. The thing is, these are issues I have to address with MY self. The things that other people did to me, I can't do anything about. They're done and if I were try to speak to them about it, no good would come from it. I'm not looking for apologies, I'm searching for closure. The people who wronged me are not the same people anymore. I was too young to speak and now they're too old to know. We've all grown out of our former shells and now I'll never find the same person who hurt me. I'd be confronting a shadow. My words would go through them and hit a stranger.

I think I know why I'm always trying to run and hide. It's the most previaling thought in my head. Run. Don't look back. Run faster. Look for a place to hide or you'll be sorry you didn't.