I Am More Than My Nightmares

by Jennae Cecelia

How do I explain that I can’t go out with you because I am afraid of the crowd around us? Afraid of the germs. Afraid of the stares. Afraid of the possibility of not coming home. How do I explain that I am made up of FEAR?

It is scary to be a dreamer in a world that sees dreams as only small possibilities.

I fear my own voice. It shakes when I am scared. It babbles when I am nervous. It stutters when I am confused. I fear my own voice, so I write.

All I want is to run freely amongst the wildflowers and the trees. I am tired of running from my anxiety.

Treat people like you would treat your garden. Care for them. Be kind to them. Nourish them. Be forgiving if they don’t grow the way you would have liked. Everyone is trying their best to grow through all the seasons of their life.

There are vines in my mind that I am still untangling. But I will.

Does the earth have anxiety too, that maybe one day she won’t rotate like she used to? Or that her valleys and rivers won’t be cared for?

I am longing for a safe place to grow.

I see stars as small reminders from the universe that even dark times show specks of light when you really pay attention.

I poured my heart and soul into you until you were flooded with me. And you still didn’t notice even a drop of my water.

You can appreciate the flowers in someone else’s garden, while still watering your own.

Some days it feels like I am talking to a universe with closed doors. However, the universe doesn’t have any doors to close. It is always there, open and listening. Waiting for you to catch on to all the obvious signs thrown your way.

Sometimes I need a little support. Like a rope and wooden stake holding up a tree that can’t stand quite right by its self yet. Soon I will rise just fine on my own.

We are just a bunch of broken people wanting to feel put together.