SNAKES P1

It's easier to burry my head in the sand sometimes

And I know it's not the right way to go

But I pray for the ground to swallow me whole

When I was a little girl, my family and I went to the beach. 

The favorite activity of my brother and I, was to be buried up to our necks in the sands of the shore.

Many times, my father and mother dug my toy shovels into the warm, salty, dirt..and inch by inch, minute by minute - my little body was covered in the ground of summer warmth.

What I remember the most is always feeling a slight panic near the end.

When my body became fully buried, the sand felt heavier against my skin. I was paralyzed.

It weighed me down into the earth.

The strength left me dizzy with anxiety.

Each time I'd break free from the earth - I felt great liberation; especially when I'd race into the water, cleansing the blackness sticking to my tanned skin.

Fast forward to present day; I find myself returning to the sands - and wishing that the ground could swallow me.

In my mind, over and over, I have buried myself in the sand.

The suffocation in real life is stronger.

It is more painful and enraging.

My mother makes me feel guilty when I pour 1 glass of wine.

Yes.

Just one.

My father has scolded me for things I should not be scolded for. Just for liking certain things or people.

The things that make me happy annoy them both.

If I could illustrate what my life is like at the moment, I would draw a girl.

A simple girl sitting at a table.

If my picture were to be animated I would draw words of sound constantly bombarding her.

BANG.  BOOM! ClASH. SCREAM. CRASH. HISS. DISS.

The girl has wings.

And she tries to break free - but her wings are chained down to the ground.

She cannot be herself.

She cannot be her SELF.

Because herself is frowned upon. Her self is apparently too reckless. Too wild. Not perfect. Not holy. Not saint like. Not what they wanted her to be.

But the funny thing is, in reality she is far from reckless.

She is the kind of girl who has a large heart.

She feels to an extreme. She lives on the edge. She follows her heart and dreams. She cares...oh does she care.

She's just trying to live..but with each consistent punch ...she takes a fistful of sand.

And with each judgment, each blow,  frown, and disapproval..she burries herself.

Until suddenly...she is no longer the little girl with the head sticking out of the ground.

She is gone.

*My mother recently took my laptop away for catching me doing something that wasn't entirely a bad thing..she will not let me have it back, unless I am in an open room, with a chaperone close by. She hid it. She actually HID it. I need this for school. I need this to get into my emails. I need this for work. I am 24 years old. Does one think that withholding things from another will stop certain behavior?*

This is getting out of hand.

What do you all think of this?

Author's Note