The Journey.


It’s been awhile! I found this a little while ago, and it made me feel good. So I thought it could help someone!


The Journey of an Illness.


It’s not safe sometimes – in my mind that is, it doesn’t feel safe, I don’t feel safe. I’m not safe.


I’m standing on the edge of a cliff and I can feel my feet moving toward the top, each step bigger and leading to something worse and I can’t stop myself. I can’t stop. Hands aren’t helping me now. No distraction of interaction.


The worst part is, is I’m not blindfolded. I can see exactly what’s happening.


I’ll walk all the way up to the top. I’m afraid. I can see the edge that I’m going to fall off.


I get a few chances to turn around. But no real chances, no chances I can take. The thoughts are too strong; a vicious biting wind, pushing me forward. Burning, breaking, bashing my mind. As if it matters.


I can’t see the sky anymore and there’s no green in the grass.


Was the grass green before? I can’t remember. The colours of the world fall away into white starlight. I’m all alone.


All I can see is the ledge, the edge, the threatening precipice.


But I’m still moving in the wrong direction. I’m breaking. I’m at the edge of the cliff and it’s such a long way down. I see the jagged rocks at the end, menacing jagged thoughts. They twinkle dangerously, telling me if I fall I won’t survive the trip down. I’m afraid.


I try. I try so hard, but my balance isn’t my own to control anymore. I tried too hard.


I fall.


My soul shatters into the jagged rocks at the bottom. It’s a short painful fall.


It’s cold and dark and I sit amongst the rocks. There’s a strange, unsettling peacefulness down here. I don’t need to fight anymore. I am utterly spent.


A bolt of lighting jolts me awake from the sleepy unwillingness and I can’t stay here. This isn’t where I belong. This isn’t where I live.


Standing up is the worst part. It hurts and the wind rips all around me. My soul is afraid and I’m on fire. The pain is tipped with gold now.


I’m one of the lucky ones though. I can put my foot on the cold slippery black rock.


Each step is more painful than the last. The rocks cut my face and at some points I have to close my eyes and trust my arms. I have to trust that I’m strong enough to pull myself up the mountain.


After some time has passed I see a blinding yellow light. I can feel warm. I can see green. I’m close to the top.


It gets easier too. The sheer jagged face has transformed into steps and I can walk up.


I’m close to the top. I hear the birds, I feel the breeze, I see green. I’m close to the top.


I’m at the top. The world is still there. It kept moving.


I kept moving.

I keep moving.Ridge ledge


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