I have this pit in my stomach
whenever things are going well.
As if pain is around the corner
and everybody except me can tell.
So I start preparing for it.
"How bad could it be?"
I mentally prepare.
Unconsciously wish for the worst
to happen to me.
Because if I prepare,
it can't hurt me.
If I prepare,
I'll be fine.
If I overthink or second guessing.
It won't hurt me,
when I wake up from this dream of mine.
When love doesn't like me.
When I fail another test.
How bad could it be,
when my imagination is at its best?
And I hold those thoughts within me,
like a water balloon slowly filling.
How much is too much?
How much can I protect if I'm willing?
And in this messed up way
it make me feel better,
when the "truth" comes to light.
When the worst suddenly happens.
Because pain felt for the second time,
just doesn't have quite the same bite.
So I guess it's not healing really.
It's just less painful overall.
I have this pit in my stomach,
but I put it there after all.
When things are going well,
I feel like something is about to change.
And if it doesn't,
I will change it.
Because peace to me,
feels strange.
And I don't want it to be.
I just want the butterflies in my stomach.
So I push myself further and further away.
Because there's no pit in my stomach,
if the butterflies don't stay.
And I don't shout.
I don't argue.
I just sit there and wait.
"What would you do
if your younger self was in the room?"
I would apologize for being so late.
For digging this hole inside of me
to hold space for vicious thoughts.
If you constantly eat the poison,
people say to you,
eventually your body rots.
"I tried to protect you,
how bad could it get?"
But these are just the trauma responses
that a younger version of me had set.
