“It’s okay.” I said in response to the weeping puddle of a man who was telling me how pathetic he felt about himself for the third time that week. It wasn’t and I wasn’t but what do you say when all you could want was a crumbled mess on the floor of the bathroom that hadn’t been cleaned in months. “ I got you.” I said as I paid another bill that wasn’t mine. “ don’t worry about it.” I said as I fretted over the issues that weren’t mine to confront. “ I love you.” I lied through my teeth that were stained by tobacco that kept me from pulling my own hair out as I betrayed my intuitions, hoping for an out despite my determination to stay and cling to the suffering I accepted for myself. ‘Be free’ my thoughts screamed at me over and over as I continued to not pick myself. All the the little lies made me a traitor of my own territory and the truth was hardest to bare. To know, with all honesty that I am not a traitor, I was just never on your side.

Most occasions I am left, alone. That’s the way I like it or so I tell myself. The strings that tie me to those around are easy to snip off to release them to their freedom, again. My ankles are wrapped with ties from those that left me. Stacked with string, each knotted with length left to be frayed with my walking around- still trying to find what it means to stay attached. Some I cut, some were cut by the ones who attached them to me. No connecting force left for me to pull upon. Yet, I still fidget with what could have been. I would like to wish them well but they are no longer a part of me so I have no claim for who they choose to be. I just fiddle with the piece of them that I keep_ for the memories. What about me? I am but an empty cup, searching for a refill but all I am offered is balls of string pretending to be a wave to quench my thirst. I have accumulated many things in the past three years, most painful is the string wrapped from my heel to my calf. I lost myself with each skip around with another attachment. I ponder on the piles of junk that seem to have no purpose anymore. No reason to stay, really -but who’s asking? My mind swirls with the possibility of what to take and what to leave as I stumble through my steps. I have been looking for the courage to be all of myself instead of tipping my cup at any interested party. Today, I am right. I pick up the scissors, slide the blade vertically through all the pieces wrapped on me. Finally free from tripping up; I set the blade down and step away from all those I chose to love before. The right choice: is letting the tears of my empty heart flow into my own cup with the love I choose for myself. No strings attached.

The roar of the world that rages in the heart Falls quiet with fear, too staggered to start. Ideas that once came out in hums Crushed care from the whims found under their thumbs The wonder went out with the air in my lungs While dreadful silence filled the space that my words once were.