Frayed

A simple girl's reflection on her personal pain. Imagery heavy and very whimsical.

My toes click together with what appears as energy. They tell me I'm so hyper. Truth is, I usually am. Unfortunately, these clicks, this time, were spurred by fear. It's a secret though. I smile and sparkle my eyes with the false joy I sewed together from what little material I had lying around in my mind. It's a good show, contagious even. I wonder what they'd do if they found out what the reality was. Sometimes, I'm surprised they haven't. When I slip up; clutch my favourite patchwork elephant too hard, so hard the faded button eyes may pop again, or when I trip on my own feet, a phenomenon unusual for me. I monitor myself like a hospital electrode, quickly fixing these little embarrassments as lightly as I can. But then there are those times when I think everyone has looked away, and I cautiously let my smile fade. My heart beats faster, and I clutch my elephant companion closer. I don't want anyone seeing that.

I'm so used to being the happy one. Youthful, spirited. You can't tell how amazing you are until you lose yourself and try to copy what you remember. It's difficult. Now I'm the scared one. Not grizzly bear scared, but left in the airport alone scared.

I click my toes faster. The water beneath me ripples a bit. I sit on a stone, smoothed from years underwater, but now is exposed to the drying, warm sun. I respect the rock. It had to hold it's breath for probably decades to get here. I bunch up my cheeks with fresh air like a baby chipmunk. I want to see how long I can hold my breath. Take a ratio, or something. 43 seconds. 43:Many decades. The rock wins. I pat it with my free hand in congratulatory behaviour. My other hand is wrapped around my stuffed elephant's leg, where years of clutching have left a fluffless section. It's trunk kisses the water just enough to cause minuscule ripples to explode like fireworks. It is an old thing; made by my mother and mended by me plenty of times. It's a steely, faded gray, with sections of pattered fabric that act like bandages. One blue button eye, one smaller yellow one. I've learned to tolerate the outside questions that come with carrying it. I just flash a smile and ask them why I can't carry my favourite friend? That usually shuts them up. Actually, I've learned how to counteract a question with a question. Anytime, anywhere. My mom said I'd be a great politician. Unfortunately, the skill has downfalls, like almost everything in life. I question my own questions sometimes, and when I'm trying to find the answer to a problem, I can barely do so without an internal debate.

Essentially, I'm super good at destroying myself from the inside out.

Which does not help my situation.

I currently live in fear. I'm so used to keeping my emotions separate from problems. 

Suddenly, this virus, this sin, this pain, it decides to change that. It began to affect me. My lifestyle. My joy. And I don't understand. I want to understand. I want to be free. To live. But it's a whirlpool, dragging me deeper and deeper into the wild caverns I've always avoided, full of uncertainty and foundation. I'm drowning, even as I breathe in such sweet oxygen. I want to control it, to escape. My Bible says trust God. I try. I try to sacrifice, I try to trust. But every time I let go, my hands seem to find themselves back on the frayed rope I use to hold onto my own life. I'm getting rope burn and my spirit groans with almost audible pain. I need help.

But it's a secret. It's too risky: the judgment I might receive for speaking up, for letting the smile slip. The rejection, the uncontrollable losing of the spot I know hold in my life and my relationships. But pretty soon, I think I may just forget how to smile. Maybe my efficient methods and crafted smile will break. Then what?

Author's Note

Relatable?

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I liked this story. All of us hide true self. Which is very sad. I like the way you used the words. Making the reader understand places and crafted smile. You are a storyteller with skill. You held my attention till the last words.
Coyote