When you look at me, you are only seein’ a part of me. When you see me smile, you are seein’ a lie. When you watch as I sit quietly, you are seein’ pain and uncontrolled emotions. You see, but you don’t see. You watch, but you can’t understand. You listen , but you don’t really hear.
That part of me is invisible to the outside world. That part of me can’t be physically touched. That part of me refuses to be consoled or comforted. I don’t like that part of me and would love to release it, set it free, but it refuses to let go of me.
I speak of “it” as if it’s a physical thing, and to me it is. I can’t touch it with my hands but I can grasp it with my mind. It lives inside of me as surely as my heart and soul do. No X-Ray can detect it, it wouldn’t register on any medical device, no matter how sensitive it may be.
I keep it hidden because it is an ugly thing, a dark, festering mass fit for no one’s eyes. The world, in general, should never be subjected to the sight of it, if it were, in fact, possible to look upon it.
It wraps itself around my soul, it invades my thoughts and dreams. Even though it is not a physical thing, it can affect my physical body. It can control my very breath, my heartbeat, my brain and thought process. It will cause me to become unbalanced and have tunnel vision. It can grip my emotions so strongly that I am unable to speak. It can manipulate my thoughts to the point that I can think of nothing but it. It demands my attention and I am helpless against it.
It has changed me, mentally, physically and emotionally. It has taken over every aspect of my life. It controls me and I have no power over it. I dare not look at it, I try not to acknowledge its existence but I am unable to stop myself. Even as I am repulsed by it, I am drawn to it and deep in my soul I know I have unwillingly awakened it.
I can feel the storm coming, a storm of emotions and fear but I have nowhere to take shelter. I lay curled into myself, eyes tightly shut against the turbulent waves of raw fear coursing through me, battering my unprotected mind with unsubstantiated and unwanted thoughts. Forcing me to see things that aren’t, and never were, there.
Vile, repulsive things grab at my mind and tear at my soul, forcing terror through me like water through a broken dam. Unwanted memories burn through my brain, pushed relentlessly to the fore of my turbulent thoughts, never allowing me to look away, to hide my eyes from the tormented pictures of a life long past, but never forgotten.
After the storm passes, the thing inside me laughs at my broken and battered soul, my exhausted, confused mind. It takes great pleasure in seeing what it has done to me and whispers a promise of more to come.
These things you can not see, these things you can not understand. I reach out to you to no avail because you are unable to protect me, secretly unwilling to rescue me. You don’t want to be drawn into my nightmare, you are satisfied with watching from a distance, content with your feeble offer of help.
It’s not your fault though and I can understand your reluctance to hold my hand. I don’t blame you, if I were you I would do the same thing. Self-preservation is human nature, but selfishness is also.
It knows I am alone in my torment and it revels in the fact that I am at its mercy. Always at its mercy.
Take no pity on me, for your pity is useless against it. Don’t tell me that it’s going to be alright, because it isn’t. This dark, rotting thing inside of me will only laugh at your attempt to console me, for it knows that it’s in control and will make me dance like it’s puppet anytime it wishes. It is the master and I am the unwilling slave.
This is the invisible me.