I am a loner but by loner I really mean sufferer; Because I may not be painted in camo and smudged by my comrades blood but the wars I wage are real. The battles a constant cry behind my face and above my throat where the heat of my entire being radiates. I am an optimist. Except by optimist I really mean eternal imaginist; Because the life that I live inside my head is always ten times better than the one I actually lead. And so I choose to exist in my own imagination almost exclusively. I am a lover. Through by lover I really mean illusionist; Because the second things feel to real I pull a disappearing act better than Houdini. At first just emotional dissipation followed by an entire bodily removal. Poof. I am a fighter. Yet by fighter I really mean loser; Because every battle I think I've won against my own mind just leads me to another landmine. Blindsided with no emergency contact dialing. Completely alone in a field of enemies left out of the defense plan. A memory completely erased in this oasis I think I created. I am a healer. But by healer I really mean criminal; Because behind the painted face vogueing in a phone lens is a broken toy passing for the next Victoria Secret Model. A confident facade slyly stolen from a commercial still frame. A mask so easy to spot if you'd just take one second to look but a story all the same. I am a dead batter, a stale cracker and the one creaky floor board that you cant pin down. I am the leaky condom, the cracked phone screen and the flat tire. I am that which you try to fix quickly only to have it blow up in your face. I am the most up front disaster which throws you for a loop. I am the storm. But remember dear child from the greatest storms come rainbows. |