My mind leads me to a precipice. Forcing me to strain my neck, staring into the blackness of my own sense of unworthiness. From the depths of that canyon come the whistlings of my worst insecurities: you don't belong here, you aren't needed. You are not loved.
I choke back tears and twist and turn to get loose of this paralyzing grip on me. My breath shallow, my heart's rapid beat. It's a constant clapping in my head, an exorable drumbeat of betrayal. I cannot control my thoughts.
I feel like a rag doll being dragged across dusty and arid land. My mind wants to force my demise. I wrestle wrestle wrestle with it to the point of exhaustion. It does not succumb. It snarls at me, daring me to assert myself. It quickly becomes the dust storm, whirling chaos and blurring my inner vision. I don't see myself anymore. I see only the absence of me. Sometimes I think letting go must feel like relief.
You don't belong. You are not needed. You are not loved.
How much of this do I allow into my heart? How do I stop its incessant poisonous seeping?
Where do I find dominion over my own self? The tiny voice buried deep under, squeaking at me to be stubborn. To cling to this one and only exasperated life. Though I may ask why, that mousy voice knows the answer.
I do not need to articulate why I need to live. Life is too heavy a thing to sacrifice to please the chattering sickly mind. Yet this is another day another hour another minute of changing and changing again in my mind. In every present instance, it is a decision to be made over and over and over again.
One day I will run out of decisions. I hope for transition to come as a calm, flowing stream, when the earth calls me back to the original home. Not a lurching abrupt ending. Where in the midst of that final thought, my mind is shattered into a million regrets.
Too late. Too late cannot stand. I cannot walk myself to the edge of that maw, throw myself in, and change my mind.
There is only one way to commit.