It’s weird how sometimes looking at myself is painful. Not really because I find myself hideous, but more like it doesn’t feel like I’m looking at me. I don’t know how to say this without sounding insane. Maybe part of me is insane. I mean, I have every reason to be. It’s not all of me, it’s just a portion. It’s like somedays mirrors aren’t mirrors. They’re windows; windows where I see someone familiar on the other side. Someone in my memories. God, this doesn’t make much sense. Writing this makes me think of people in history. Albert Einstein who saw equations that didn’t even exist yet. Benjamin Franklin who thought he could light a room with some wire and glass. Van Gogh who painted what his mind saw and who cut off his ear to try to stop the voices in his head.
Then I think “maybe being partially insane isn’t a bad thing. Maybe that’s what it takes to change history, to change how society thinks,…..and I feel better.
living
Subway Platform
You must overcome the pain in your chest
For your dreams to finally become real
That’s easier said then done
I’m still trying to figure out how I even feel
Bending over backwards
Holding my breath
Waiting for the picture to face forward
Shaking at the thought of seeing it clearly
I’ve watched experiences pass me by
Like trains on the subway
Something always holding me back on the platform
Holding me back from jumping on
That something has many names
Some more specific than others
I can’t keep forcing blame
Not on myself. Not anymore
Instead of eating them away
For the choices they made
It eats me away constantly
Piece by piece and day by day
I’ve watched experiences pass me by
Like trains on the subway
Something always holding me back on the platform
Holding me back from jumping on
I’m forcing myself to break free
From the things that hold me back
Even if I have to break my own wrist to escape their grasp
I’m getting on that train
©Jessi Wilson
stillhangingon 