on life's timeline...history so far past

It can['t] be. It's almost "safe" to say it won't be. Brushed up against this frame of time. And all the while it's like I'm breathing this fresh air for the first time. It used to dawn on me in such a chilling way-- the impact of pain this caused me.
Ages ago....I was telling this story with an upset stomach to someone close and dear. She told me oh no, this was not your fault. There is a release in vulnerability. What makes no sense at all sometimes is after betrayal there can still be a sensitivity & compassion towards that person. But also it makes perfect sense. But this ribbon tied between the two, I've cut the scarlet bow. Today I cringed at flashbacks. Today I smiled at hope. These things I speak of, these things are fleeting. These things have no harmony, they just speak out monotonous and resounding nothingness. Sometimes I think you can think you've caught on to what's being said..but really you are clueless. It's like that bit of anticipation acquainted with nerves on the fritz when you overhear bits and pieces of a dialogue and believe the said subject is indeed you.
I had to realize or at least accept that this familiarity in the breeze would be a constant. Will be a constant. And it's not like I have to praise it's every entrance. You just keep moving. You just keep going.

"slow down you crazy child take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while. It's alright you can afford to miss a day or two"

You can live with. You can endure. But you can also experience the freedom. You can see it all go away. Our God's not a band-aid God. He's going to cut you open for the surgery, stitch ya closed. And help you through the recovery until you walk into full health.

watch it correlate to past and present....if not...but so. again you can't be confident they are indeed talking about you.

I was slouching over the counter taking a slow yet necessary breath. Not really looking for much. A friend had tried to shove me in a room moments before, thought'd it would be funny to place me where the nonsense was taking place. Little did friend know it would have bruised me badly if I had walked in. Something stopped me and it was explained to me afterward what was behind the door. But what was behind made way to me- in another room, slouching on the counter. I couldn't close my eyes. And casually I remained composed...all the while thinking why is this taking place. Has integrity been forgotten. Hasn't the damage been done and been made apparent in these eyes? My tears aren't sparkling glimmers of a beautiful something. I wouldn't even come close to that description. I remember the night under the black sky. "Don't cry, please don't cry. Now I feel like......" How can you do what you do and not let one grieve? I believe it's a mandatory part of recatching your breath. If composure was lost I'm sorry. But I left perfection at the door a long time ago when I became friends with reality. Another envelope.