Denial's Not Just a Feeling

Floating While Falling

Something made her stop, she wasn't sure what but she stopped. She tried blinked, maybe clearing her vision would help in the process of cognitive thinking, of a logical practice to make sense of a world which demanded to not be understood, yet she still tried.

Specks and spots blurred her vision. So, maybe literally seeing wasn't the answer, considering the tears which welled in her burning eyes she decided against searching the physical world for an answer. Though, how could she possibly not realize the sizzling of her eyeballs under a heat lamp? It seemed impossible, almost not logical, but somehow she did and it made her cringe.

Closing her eyes seemed like the best idea she could muster. Once her eyelids cast a shadow over the her most imperative line of defense, a shiver ran down her spine and her heart raced, possibly wanting to beat the shiver before it reached her toes. Too late; her toes curled first. She dug her toes into the ground. At least, she thought it was the ground just like she thought she was also wearing shoes, but everyone lies, right? It didn't feel like her feet were even near anything hard nor liquid. It appeared she couldn't call ground a surface anymore.

Floating! That must be so! The closing of her eyes seemed to trigger a chain reaction of light weight fluidity. Now, recalling the sensation of casting a shadow over her eyes, traveling further into darkness and unknown, the mysteries of the world appealing to the natural curiosity in her soul, she did feel a sense of calm, perhaps even euphoria. The feeling of glee just wasn't even to make her jump and twirl, just smile in content.

It seemed appropriate to say just how easy it was, to find a place where she didn't need to understand not be understood like she was always told are the qualities of a productive addition to society. That part was too hard for her. Was it just her who found it troubling to do well by everyone but her own self, the only one, she was told, who's opinion of her actually mattered? Hypocrites must have penetrated the stronghold she once obtained over her mind and body. Her desire to please used against her and twisted unsettlingly by vermins.

Cowards thinking she is someone to be controlled and manipulated . . .

She always thought with closed eyes during consciousness she is able to see specks of light dancing pass by the physical world, but it didn't seem the case. She only saw darkness and still it was calm. She didn't think something feared could be welcomed the way she yearned to push further into it. Usually it would frighten her. She was never one to venture without a buddy to lean on. Though, the feeling of solitude, a wave of peace beginning to relieve the tension in her shoulder she believed were slumped and stiff, but no sight meant no way of knowing for sure.

Except, she felt it.

A sensation of letting go, of falling from the highest point in the universe, but not hitting land and feeling secure all at once. If she were to scream-the logical part of her would have-she figured air would lodge in the back of her throat until she suffocated. It felt endless. The fall without actually falling. Flying without leaving the ground she figured was the best comparison she could think of at the moment.

Reaching out with both hands, she felt soft, tiny hands grab her fingers and squeeze comfortingly. She felt the corners of her lips twitch upward in satisfaction. Maybe she should have worried, but why? The fingers were childlike, giving her a tug to follow along. She wanted to go with the owner of the childlike hands but her feet felt stoned in the air. She couldn't move.

Calm turned to panic instantly.

It's okay. A small voice cooed gently. The voice had to belong to the small hands because they gave her hands another squeeze and pull. This is only the beginning.

She couldn't even open her eyes. Something somewhere told her somehow to trust the small hands with the reassuring voice, but what if she couldn't? What if she disappointed yet another person?

I know it's scary. I've been where you are and cried for my mommy, but I was told I had to wait for her. I didn't want to wait, I wanted to run to her and curl up in her lap, but I was still told to wait.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, listening to the small hands she realized belonged to a little girl wiser beyond her years.

I can still see mommy and she finally looks happy. I want my mommy to be happy. Don't you want to see your mommy again?

She nodded her head yes, the tears finally escaping and a weight baring down on her shoulders, making her hunch over in sorrow.

Open your eyes and I'll show you to your mommy. Then you can see mine! My mommy is very pretty! You are too! I bet your mommy is pretty like you.

She finally found the courage and will to open her eyes. She looked down at a little girl with long, curly brown hair, large brown eyes, and a long off white nightgown. The little girl smiled up at her and gestured up towards a blinding light. She looked up too, needing to squint, but soon enough felt the pull of the little girl rising above her. Only then did she realize what was happening.

She looked down at her screaming mother rocking her lifeless body. Pain filled her.

She looked back up hesitantly. She needed to move on to see her mommy again, and she did.