Leaden Power

Bulging eyes sorely staring through my reflection. Bare body, bloated belly. As primal as if just escaped the womb. With an age far greater than that lived, settling in between the creases and cracks of my skin. My mind, it does not operate as theirs do. Cogs turn with great effort, while theirs churn thoughtlessly. With utter ease. An ability to be human without care. I care so much that it could kill me. Each word that leaves my breath is calculated and considered. My force is my own caretaker. Travelling my steps away from the edge and forward, forward. Towards another day. Into life. It is nights like this where my daily exhaustion of exertion overwhelms me and I drown in its burnt energy. Being alive should not be this hard.

Early rise. Hours of slumber have failed to rest my evidence. Painting porcelain atop the blood spots that surround my desperate eyes. This mask that I mould each morning. I wonder, would the world make sense if our minds were identical? Although this divergence of ordinary is heavy to hold, there is power to it. My wires predicted that my colleague was struggling before their words affirmed it. Also, was it not my heightened anxiety that unveiled the infidelity of my partner? Of course, I could have been wrong. Overthinking and overreaching for a narrative that did not exist. Though, I was not wrong. For, my mind is not as theirs is. All of those nights hunched in front of the mirror with my debilitation choking the air, I believed I was a villain. Of this reality, lifetime. A villain to myself. How wrong I was. This power is leaden. But, it can set them free. Perhaps, in the end, this heroism will set me free, too.