TheLateBloom
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Stories (16)
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Morning routine . Top Story - March 2021.
Peering into the woman who stood before me, I got lost in the uncertainty of her glare. Unemotive eyes hiding the tension held between her shoulders, pulling her posture inward. The routine sigh wasn’t deep enough to release the tightness that wrapped around her chest. Quiet judgments filled the air, even in silence they were all I could hear, I guess I never quite learned how to love the reflection I saw in the mirror. Clumsily, I collect my things. Frightened by the echo of my mascara hitting the bathroom sink, still not a cacophony bold enough to bring me back to the moment. I had drifted down the deserted path of my anxieties, absent of the wisdom I held my standards to, and there was no end in sight. Alerted by the reverberating call coming from my torn coat pocket, it was time to force myself out the door.
By TheLateBloom 5 years ago in Psyche
Goodbye for now
I was at the verge of a new life. I was still there, but I could feel myself gravitating elsewhere. The life I had was fading from my thoughts and all I could focus on was the life that was ahead of me. New place, new people, new experiences, new everything that was just out of reach. I could not help but look beyond what was right in front of me and I was engulfed by the possibilities. Like any moment, but especially then, I knew I would never be the same.
By TheLateBloom 5 years ago in Families
Growing up again
I was broken, dragged down the path against my destiny, without a single memory that truly felt like it belonged to my being. Continuously going through the motions until I had forgotten what I was moving toward, I covered the feelings I refused to let myself express under thick smoke that only further clouded the clarity of my future. I didn’t want to admit I had no plan. The journey I started to collect the parts of myself I had lost along the way began before I even realized what was happening. For a while, I was picking up pieces to then only leave them in different places I didn’t want to go back to. Putting myself back together without the internal compass to even know who that was; it was beautifully exhausting. The determination to feel complete, while simultaneously overindulging in actions I didn’t want to claim, led to my downward spiral to rock bottom. The dying silver maple I had grown into was finally chopped down and it was time to heal my roots so I could bloom into the sturdy oak that would last the storm.
By TheLateBloom 5 years ago in Psyche
