Secrets That Are Lies

by shadymama

there was A Room inside my gut, housed right under the spiral of my ribs in that place that gets sharp when i’m scared.  that place that expands and ripples liquid like smooth stones in a still pond when i’m safe.  i stood before its door begrudgingly with a bratty attitude to color the terror a different shade, and i braced up with alla the ferocity, courage and help i could muster  i gripped the heavy skeleton key so metal my palm could taste it and walked right in.  the room breathed and the vapor of an old and deep lie swirled and whispered, “no one will ever love you because there is something defective in you.  something defective in yer soul.”  i stood brave and quiet and, for the last time, let that lie lay across my skin like sick damp deceit.

and then –

i took a deep breath and clenched my fists tight.  i opened up my throat and spilled sound, clear like truth’s bell.  i Split Atoms with my voice.  and those atoms splitting, they rearranged the universe that cradled the galaxy that held the solar system that spun the planet that floated the continent that contained the country that owned the state that housed the city that claimed the house that surrounded my body that held the room of Secrets That Are Lies inside its cage of ribs.

and the whole.fucking.existence burst into flames,

burnt hot, spitting and orange.  and when i opened my eyes, they were utterly and genuinely surprised that the walls were still standing and we were not surrounded by smoking ash.  and i rose from the collective, unseen wreckage and stepped into open air,

blessedly and finally Free.

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