What if I never was born, never took a breath on this earth.
What if I was never birthed into the bloodline I was ushered into?
What would be of me?
What would be my name?
The place I'd call home?
Would my dreams have been accomplished or gone unfulfilled?
I lie awake thinking of those very things. I sit, ponder and think deep into these nights. I reflect on whether I'd be able to breathe, literally and figuratively. I think of the battle scars I've incurred.
I see the way that they've profoundly diverted the greatness that could have been me, been my mind and my soul. The greatness that has been deferred; saved for another lifetime, for another place.
I think of the wrongs I've done. I think of the countless times I've poisoned myself by my own hand and cup. I am to blame for everything that has ever been done to me. Had it not been for me existing, maybe things wouldn't be so agonizing and difficult for those around me.
Maybe so many people could have avoided the eye of this storm. Possibly escaping that Medusan moment where they were frozen within my grips.
I maybe would have saved them from my experience, from mein kampf.
There are days where I want to tell the world what I think of it, conquer it at every turn. Then there are days ... Days where my heart feels dead inside. Where I can't truly touch anything on a deeper level. There are days, nights and all the in betweens where my mind abandons me, where it escapes itself and I find myself unable to blink and know the power of it.
I wish I was enough for my confessions.
