Inside she banters.
Inside she sweats.
Inside her veins pulsate from her toes to her chest.
Inside she is uneasy.
Inside she feels small.
Inside her thoughts can barely crawl.
Sometimes we are boxed in.
Sometimes we cannot get out.
Sometimes there is no space for expression, out loud.
The world may say otherwise.
The world may project different versions.
Opposite.
But the rules and expectations stand bold.
Seen clearly,
They are not missed.
What happens to her?
To that source stemmed from inside.
When she feels lost in the world and constantly asks herself why?
Does she blame that life rule?
Does she blame that life script?
Or does she turn on herself
And believe that she is the reason for the rift?
Does she begin to question her being
Her core pieces inside?
Then slowly start to alter
So she blends in with the outside?
Does she turn some levels up
Accentuate their being?
While removing others completely
So they would be lost from her scene?
Will she mourn her self losses?
Will she be sad deep inside?
Try to find meaning in her new being
In the world that is outside?
Will she tip-toe as she progresses?
Thoughtfully ponder each step
Hold herself to high standards
Will she not be granted one misstep?
Will she focus on the others?
So she can ensure they do not feel this way?
Find joy in helping
Try to make others smile, each day?
Will these things become her identity
As she walks through the world?
Will she find joy and contentment
Knowing that she found her place to externally hold?
Will she forget much of what happened
Those internal changes that she made?
As she walks and grows older
Monitoring each step, everyday.
Will she notice she is doing it?
Grasping with dear life to the control
Or will it be a norm that goes unnoticed?
That immense tension, the natural state of her days as they unfold?
Will she find her place?
Her success as they would say?
Through those seemingly permanent levels
That she had altered at a young age.
To the exterior, no question.
She's good.
She's well.
When turned to the inside
How would she say that she felt?
Would she feel that something is missing?
A piece of her soul muted, turned low?
Would she ponder deeply
What is inactive?
Could it be a reality that a piece of her was let go?
Would she allow those questions to brew?
Or would she stop them in their tracks?
That is impossible.
Crazy.
How dare her mind go down that path.
Would she, at some point, be okay?
And others, not so much?
Would there be some points when she would lose
Within herself, her felt touch?
Her true self-understanding.
Her external reality control.
Would there be pieces of time that stand, in her memory, a blur?
Would she begin to notice felt struggles
Inside of her being?
Would she exhaust her energy to ensure
That outside those things go unseen?
Would she get really good
At managing that script?
Or would some pieces become visible?
Would her external world now feel in conflict?
The world says that trials are wrong.
Trials should not be expressed
Others should not be able to say that they saw
A trial, struggle or rift.
If those pieces breakthrough
If others see the unrest
What is she to do
To hide that scene from the rest?
Would she begin to again feel the banters?
Again experience the sweats?
Would her veins again pulsate
From her toes to her chest?
Would this feeling feel familiar?
Would she understand its deep roots?
Or would the cycle repeat
With level churning, would it conclude?
Would there ever come a day
When the understanding would click?
Would she notice the cycles?
Would she recognize the forced control that she exhibits?
Would her continuous struggles
Be a whisper toward the truth of her play?
With each trial she felt
With each hurdle on the track
Would another layer be uncovered
To the true story of her path?
Would she slowly learn to understand
That she had once altered her being?
That she held an abundance of control
So that she would fit in with this life's scene?
Would she slowly remember
The levels that she had turned
So she could find safety in a world
That felt too big for her soul to be heard?
Would she remember that she feared her feelings?
The way that she felt things so deep.
That she felt she was different.
And that she feared what, for her life, that would mean.
Would she recognize how she adapted
So she could try to feel fine?
So she could strive to blend in
And not worry about fitting in
With the world's defined lines.
If she did come to recognize
To understand these things
What then, in that moment
Would that now for her mean?
How would she react?
How would she then navigate the next steps?
How would she progress onward?
Would that life now be left?
Or would she find challenges?
Would she be met with grave fear?
As she navigated her steps onward
With this knowledge now near?
Would she remember what she altered?
Which levels were muted or turned up?
Or would those memories remain a mystery
And inside deeply,
Would she feel stuck?
How could she remember?
How could she find the missing pieces of that tape?
So she could come face-to-face
With the insight into the parts of herself
That at one point remained?
Is it possible she would begin to feel numb?
Experience loads of questioning inside?
As she took steps in the world
Would she fear if she would be able to decipher
The truths from the lies?
Would she worry immensely?
That she was still living life in this way?
As she desired intensely
To leave that way of living astray.
Would it perhaps be a work in progress?
Each day, throughout time?
As she pulled more and more insight
Through shining the light on her inside.
Through giving her thoughts and emotions
A place setting in her life.
Through exploring feelings
Versus pushing them down, deep inside.
Through giving space
To her insides throughout.
Would this newfound understanding
Bring up fear?
Emotions?
Felt anxiety and pain?
Or would it facilitate a sense of empowerment?
Would she feel determined to understand herself further in this way?
Would she begin to ponder
If those internal banters and sweats
Were messages to which she should listen
To understand the parts of her
In which she had left?
When inside her veins would pulsate,
Would she now be relieved?
For perhaps they will uncover
Pieces of her
Which she had chosen to leave?
