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Somewhere along the way I’ve taken a retrograde step, got lost, stumbled, fallen, and found myself back in a place I thought I’d left behind.

I recognise the scenery, the heavy aroma, the choking air which saps the strength. The voice in the shadows paints a picture of mistrust, of self, of circumstance, it’s deepening timbre horrifyingly mesmerising.

Confidence shattered, I want to step back, I don’t entirely trust myself anymore. I reflect on my journey, the path I’ve taken so far, and see demons in wait, (my) insecurities, old, mapped on their skin. The temptation to take hold of their outstretched hands is hard to resist.

My thoughts begin to curl inward, a desire to keep them (safe?) is blocking my willingness to share….confidence rocked, I suddenly can’t stand for them to be laid bare. I don’t understand why I’m here again, why this place lured me back into it’s snare.

Blog posts I’d planned, where emotion, brave, was to be revealed, lie scattered on charred remnants of paper, resented, epiphany denied.

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It feels wrong to be here again.
Confronted with a reticence to communicate, the burden of guilt weighs heavy on my mind. I feel I’m doing Sir, us, a disservice by revisiting old wounds, taunting myself with them when I, we, have come so far.

All I know is I need to find my way out of this malevolent maze of shadow and nightmare where my mind seeks defeat, and get back to the place where comfort, not distance was sought.

 

Wicked Wednesday