Searching for ghosts.

There was a time when I’d blog deep into the night, only to air the filth I was living in. The scent of regret was thick and sour, spoiled milk in my open wounds. The further away I’ve gotten from my nightmare the easier it is for me to play the part of marketer and diva, but I’ve lost words, I think.

I told someone as I started to heal how very much I feared losing the sting and shock and burn.

How do you get back the anger, when it’s left you alone inside your happiness?

Funny, isn’t it, how we want what we used to have? We find comfort in whatever’s usual, whatever we carved into our skin to scar us.

Settling into marriage means my sickness is almost dead. My sins purged. A different fear settles, one only to be tested by time. Maybe I’ll forget who I was before the smiles and dates and success. Maybe I won’t.

Don’t forget me, friends. Remind me you like medium rare steaks and don’t accept hors d’oeuvres. If I tell you I can’t find the darkness anymore tell me to search for my ghosts. Please. Because if I ever lose sight of the reasons I’ve made the choices I have, I’ve failed myself.

Amen.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MYSVM...]