In flow memories

Holding my face near the fire stove until it was flushed and full of it's heat. Cooling my hot cheeks against the cold comforting glass of the front sliding glass door, daydreaming of whimsical adventures to be had in the winter weather outside. Stepping out into that icy weather, warm and bundled up. Breathing in those first few lung fulls of harsh burning cold air. Running through the breezeway, letting loose the layers of warmth a piece at a time, embracing the chill. The thrill of imagination, fantasy, my destiny coursing through my veins like a powerful drug. Feeling strong, beautiful, alone, elusive. Dangling my legs over the concrete ledge staring into the frost bitten trees, waiting for a moment's decision, a perilous mission, an ultimate purpose to overcome me. Only then do I remember ever feeling truly content. Living in waking dreams. Reality was so different. So crisp. Time was slower. Love lingered in everything. Now it seems dulled and blurred, disconnected.


I miss it more than I can say.

Fear

Do you remember what it was like to be a child? That feeling when you wake up in the middle of the night and desperately need to pee? You carelessly push off your covers, swing your legs to the floor and stumble towards your bedroom door still drowsy and driven by a simple need. As you step just past the edge of your doorway, you stop. Having been mostly staring at your feet you suddenly become aware of an otherness. The full reality of your situation rushes at you and you suddenly need to turn on a light and see every crevice surrounding you. You struggle to hear anything unfamiliar but blood is rushing too loudly to your head. You can see the bathroom at the other end of the hall. It can't be more than a few long steps away but the distance seems to stretch out, leaving you vulnerable for an indeterminable amount of time. You almost whimper as you cross your legs and stare at the doorway to your relief. You half turn towards your room thinking that you might be able to wait until morning when everything feels safer. Then you realize that while you were looking ahead, your room seemed to fill with this dark unknown as well. Your bed must be safe but it seems as far away as the bathroom though you know it's much closer. You could just turn on the lights but the switch in your room is too far away and the switch in the hall seems to have melted somewhere along the shadows of the wall. If you call for your parents you'll reveal that you are scared and be humiliated, or worse, whatever is lurking in the unknown will find you if it isn't watching you already. You run through scenarios in your head, many resembling the lessons taught to campers and hikers on what to do when confronted with a large predator. If you run will it run after you? If you stay still will it lose interest or will it just wait for any sign of movement? Your simple need becomes a painful life or death decision that you alone must risk. There are only 3 options that you seem to be able to consider:

1. Run back and jump into bed, possibly having to repeat everything you've just experienced because you'll be damned if you'll piss yourself 
2. Run to the bathroom, turn on the light, close the door and relieve yourself, only to face the journey back or justify spending the remaining hours till daylight in the bathroom
3. Try flinging yourself to where you last remember seeing the hall light switch, turn it on and proceed to turn on and leave on the lights in both the bathroom and your room pretending you just couldn't be bothered to turn them off

Unfortunately, your brain makes a decision that your body not only delays executing, but fucks up entirely. Suddenly you can hear everything, you take a sudden breath and throw yourself forward only to realize your feet barely make the effort of moving and your hand is scrambling all over the wall to get a light switch  that prefers not to be found. You bounce your body to the other wall in an attempt to pinball your way back to safety until the pain in your bladder motivates you to awkwardly turn back towards the bathroom door that you are much closer to but still too wary to enter. In the end you're left panting, back against a wall, legs dancing silently, head turned toward your necessary future trying yet again to psych yourself up to the challenge of what should be a simple task. A lifetime seems to pass and in that icy moment of panic and indecision, all you know is trepidation. You are frozen and alone; a child all too aware. This feeling will follow you forever.


Welcome to my world.