Trapped in my own Reflection

There it was again, the emptiness, growing too wide for my chest to contain. I want to escape, but I can’t, not because I am incapable…, no. Rather, I choose to live with it. It has been there from the beginning, always. Reminding me that as much as I try to take charge, to own my life, to lift my uncertain wings and take flight, there is always something that will be missing. A part of me that will never be satisfied; a thirst so strong that can never be quenched was I to drain the Indian Ocean in my belly and live to tell the tale.
But then again, it has always been a tussle; parting with yesterday…, living for today…, and embracing the mysterious tomorrow. Maybe it’s the only way I will get to let go, succumb to what has been, to what is, and what will be; or rather, what I believe might soon be. A reflection of the past me; like a heavy log on my shoulder, reminding me of all the disappointments with little moments of joy and triumph; a reflection of the present me; like a mother in labour, bearing the weight of the past and future, trying to find balance in between the two so that my memory is not lost to the winds; and a reflection of the future me, carrying doubts and fear for all that could be and might be. And yet, that is not the main reason why I struggle, Why I fight with everything I’ve got to rid myself off this apparitions  that haunt my very existence.
It is a desire so deep for something I fear I can never have; a desire for freedom, a desire to purge myself off this physical and mental bondage I carry daily praying that it will not drag me to destruction before I find a way out. Before I escape this prison I have carefully structured for myself. And so I fight for the scarce memories of victory. Because inside the vast emptiness, there is a spark ignited with every step in the right direction, with every triumph, and with every victory, reminding me that not every drop of sweat and tear was shed in vain. And so I hold on, not to the infinite void, no, but to the speck of light that reminds me not all is condemned to destruction.
Joyce Namahonje
#NamahonjeBlog

 

Author: Namahonje

A woman in discovery.

10 thoughts on “Trapped in my own Reflection”

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