I have not blogged in awhile. I have had much to say, as school has began and life has gotten busy and crazy. I just have not been able to find words. Yet, for my own sanity and livelihood, I give my words. They are not very cohesive, just my jumbled thoughts, presented in two sorts of parables to try to describe my experiences. This was the best I could do right now. Perhaps I will add clarity later…

It truly does make the good that much better when it is preceeded by a lot of shit. The shit in my life has piled up slowly, but comes constantly, the baggage slowly weighing me down, but being stacked onto my back slowly, so I do not even notice when more is added. Yet it continues to crush, and I become comfortable with my crooked spine and heavy legs, not realizing how it is stunting my ability to grow.

But when the opportunity somehow arises to remove some of the baggage, when someone else comes by to offer to carry something, or at least to offer me a chair to sit for a moment, oh how good that feels.

Sometimes, when a helping hand is offered, I am hesitant to accept. I do not know the person well, how do I know they are not going to put more weight in my bags and then throw them back on my back. How do I know that they are not going to run off with my bags, that, though are heavy, carry parts of myself in them. Things that I am not ready to part with. Pieces that are already broken that I do not want to break more, that will easily shatter.

But sometimes, because the weight is simply too unbearable, because I need to rest so badly, because this stranger looks like a nice person and seems like a nice person… because they have walked with me, just a few blacks, but enough to allow me to trust, I accept their offer, or make the request on my own.

My defenses go up and fade away at the same time, my back likes the reprieve but at the same time finds it difficult adjusting to this new freedom. I have committed to allowing this stranger to help, but I immediately wonder if it was safe.

Will I, in time, feel safe beside this stranger? Will they become a friend? Will we, together, be able to remove the baggage from my back and from theirs as well, and not only carry it for each other, but be able to throw it away, to part with the pieces that shatter. Will the weight we are carrying get lighter, or will we get stronger?

Will I be able to add strength despite the weight under which my body has suffered? Or will I not be able to live up to the task, am I already too crippled? Do I work at it despite the pain and the difficulty, or do I just give up, and accept my condition?

I don’t know what to write about… where to start. The last few weeks have been a blur, an emotional tornado, strewing all my feelings and thoughts everywhere. My comfort has been demolished, piled in a heap on the ground, unrecognizable as the solid structure it once was. My anger, which was once hiding under comfort, is now out in the open, effected by the whirlwind, but strong and withholding.

And there I sit, next to anger, holding on tight, as it is one of the only things left that I can grasp, the only thing that has stayed strong. Fear, my other companion left from this tornado, is sitting on my other side, but he is harder to discern. In some ways, this companion of mine appears that he has been strengthened by the tornado, that it has proved him. He has a sort of pride to him. “See how valuable I am” he says to me, and he, in a way, becomes my new comfort, as he did make it through this powerful storm. He thrived through it.
Yet there is a part of him that is weak, fleeting. He exists, and appears stronger, but at the same time, looks flush, transclucent even. I can see through him a bit, and, as he tries to prove otherwise, becomes more and more clear. He is a ghost, really, but is still there, and I still try to grasp to him although I am really grasping nothing.

I am truly alone, as anger is proving strong and powerful, but not good company. So, with nothing to grasp to, I slowly stand. I fall, shaky from the tornado and tripping on the broken pieces of my life scattered around me. But I stand. And I slowly start to rebuild, something stronger and more resistant.

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