"the inner pull"

Last night i had a dream about a message. "pull everything from my hands," it said, after a long soliloquy about why i will grow old someday.

"pull everything out of my hands"

i woke up a million times, and each time, i could have sworn i woke up somewhere else. the quilt looked somewhat the same. the sky looked the same.

i kept feeling different. i'm not who i was when i closed my eyes earlier. i'm not who i was two days ago. i'm not who i was two minutes ago. earlier i was someone's daughter and now, i'm the queen of everything.

(within these four walls anyway)

i open myself inside out. thinking of the words in times new roman font.

"pull everything-"

was that real? i never got it from you.

"-from my hands.."

are those even the right words? god, i don't know.

i don't want to leave this room. i feel like once i leave, the world will swallow me up again. i'll be an afterthought, the last to get a glass of water.

i allow this to happen, i know.

let me hang out with the ghosts. let me stay and watch the clouds and the birds fly past. let everything go past. let me stay here, in this room, in this bed. let me figure out what i'm supposed to do.

the earth will move without me. i know it will. it always has.

but first... someone asked me for a favor. someone from the inside, looking for the expression outward

"i know you can bring it out of me.... pull it all from me. pull these words from me onto the page. pull everything out of my hands."