It occurred to me - as the sun's rays dipped below the mountainside that stood majestically behind my home, the light projecting a crimson sky, while a lone cut sunflower twisted between my thumb and forefinger- that I was (once again) wrestling with the delicate nature of my inner-most thoughts.

Struggling to find my way back to center, while the voices that plagued my head danced in circles to keep themselves entertained.

I was not entertained, however.
Nor was I enjoying their ritual.

It was moments such as these - when I felt most isolated and hidden from this world - that seemed to pester me the most into believing I am a nuscense.

Orange-tinted hair when you asked for blonde.
A stain on your favorite white sweater.
The rock that lodges between your toes on a jog.
Spilled gas station coffee before you can take the first sip.

Go away.

A hinderence to others inhalation of oxygen.
The black sheep.
The bane of existence in the eyes of my loved ones.
No one likes me, anyway.

Go away.
Go away.

My mind has become so warped that even the gentlest souls that have planted seeds in my heart make me afraid.

I already fear my closest peers have grown tired of me;
What's truly stopping anyone else?

When fear has choked me to the point I believe that mundane human contact is too much of a threat to my existence, so I hide.

The demons make me unlovable anyway.

Or so the voices say.

But then he reaches for me, his hand warm as it slips into mine in such a way as to say he's not scared of what the demons tell me, or how loud they speak inside of my head.

And how hair mishaps become funny stories a decade later.
The red sweater is pretty comfy too.
Catching your breath on a jog is essential, so dislodge that rock.
The gas station is right around the corner; it's okay to go back.

You are not wasted oxygen.
Black sheep are cuter anyway.
Your family does not loathe you.
Who cares, anyway.

And I breathe.

Acceptance filling my blood that I can be safe with him.

And the sunflower twirling between my fingers falls to the Earth.

And he pulls me to my feet, the brightest blue eyes I'd ever seen gazing into mine.

Making, if for but a moment, my fears disapate -

As he spins me.

With each circle he leads me into making, the background noise slowly becomes static, and I find myself falling in love with him a little more.

By the time the moon finished rising on the night it occurred to me (once again) that maybe they'd just be better off, I was safely tucked into my bed - leaving the voices to dance outside -with a forehead kiss, and warm arms holding me tight.

© krystlereisler