The Most Hideous Bullets in the Gun

These most hideous parts torture my unconscious, my dreams, my fantasies, my hopes and aspirations.

These most hideous parts resurface no matter what I do to keep them at bay. No matter how hard I fight to deny what is real, to deny the truth, to deny the past. These most hideous parts make it impossible to forget, to move forward, to accept. These most hideous parts haunt and tease, wait and seep. These are the parts that I have tried every means to bury deep inside. To lock away in that untapped cellar at the depth of my soul. The cellar doors are rotting, there are cracks in the cement that was built to keep it together, to maintain this illusion. The illusion that I am sane and whole, that I function and thrive. These most hideous parts threaten my very existence. Threaten my life, my right to survive, to live and flourish. Honesty brings them to light where they grow and overtake like the milfoil of a polluted lake. My soul is being polluted, tarnished, and darkens with every passing day. The progression is slower with small repairs to the cellar. With heavier chains to the doors and sealant on the walls. This is not the answer because with this comes isolation and despair. There is always an underlying current, this hideous current. It courses through like electricity, as if I have a fist grasping tightly to an electric fence. This week I have felt this current stronger than ever. This week the electricity has doubled. It's a finger curling, fist clinching, eye twitching, leg jerking sensation. Crawling out of my skin has never been so desirable as now. Never with more intensity have I sought in desperation to stop this cycle. It's as if I am in the death spiral, the last inches of water being sucked out of the tub, the tornado that rips through uprooting everything in its path. My life is upside down as I walk through life being complemented on my accomplishments. Look at how far you've come, look at all the positive, all the good that's transpiring. Sure I see the good, but in a moments glimpse it is ripped right from my hands. Even the death grip can't maintain. I am drawn towards this darkness, this darkness that is so intriguing, so comfortable, so familiar. The answers lie in this darkness though I will not open the cellar to know, to really know. It's too scary, too ugly, too hideous. I am afraid of what I will find, I am afraid of not finding what is there. A rock and a hard place. I long to know yet I am terror stricken to find out. The small glimpse I have had took my life and turned it completely upside down, altered the entire course of my life indefinitely. That brief glimpse has tortured my every waking moment for years. Not only the waking, my every moment, my every breath. The numbness is now ineffective, there is no escape. I knew this day would come. Secretly I was waiting in anticipation, knowing it was the only way out, knowing it was the only way up, knowing it would heal. Through the fear, the terror, the disgust there will be a light. Intellectually this is easy, emotionally this is paralyzing. Brought to my knees once again, yet I refuse. I refuse to kneel, I refuse to heal… Rock and a Hard Place!