Raw

I wish I were a live wire
Anyone who dared come close enough to me I’d wreak havoc on
Ready to strike on a moment’s notice.

I used to carry my own spark, keeping it glowing and ready to show me the path through my darkness. Now the spark is fading, barely noticeable.

I’m raw—not the pretending version of me—but the one I’ve hidden underneath for months.
She has arrived.

It’ll be hard for people to see her, to read her, to understand her, though she’s not meant to be understood. She’s just here, visiting.

Personally, I welcome her.
I’ve felt her in me my entire life, but kept her down and away.

I’d like to meet her—she’s the shadowy part of me—that beautiful natural gloom I carry.

She serves one purpose: to let everyone know I am, despite all my efforts, not ok.

She speaks clearly. She tells me I will be ok, but to stop the bullshit of pretending in the meantime.

She reminds me that I’ll never truly get better if no one sees my suffering. She will remain until I am supported enough to arrive in my new reality.