There’s a still small place in me that I forget sometimes. The place where the shadows lurk and wait for their time to come at me. I like to forget about that place, to act like it doesn’t exist even when it starts to take over parts of me. If I ignore it enough then it will go away. Then I can focus on the bright and happy things in my life and be the smiling, cheerful person that those around me so enjoy.

But once I acknowledge it feels like it takes hold, sinks in its fangs and I’m trapped, trapped in my own flesh and bones, hating myself for a weakness I can’t do anything about.

I wish I was kinder to myself, I try to be. But its hard. Its so easy to just see the glaring weakness, to know I’m failing in some manner. To know that no, this isn’t good enough. Only, if its the best I can do perhaps it is. Such a confusing thing. The still small space isn’t still or small now, its expanding, creeping through me and taking over one inch at a time. I can feel it. I loath it. I have refused to give those that hurt me power over me so why does this keep power? Why does it make me want to cry? I hate tears, hate how it alarms those who love me. I should be better. 

Only…I shouldn’t. Because I’m human. If only I could learn to accept that with some grace.