The Valley

And here I thought I was choosing.

One person or the other. The old me or the new me. But now, as I rest cautiously in the valley between, I see that neither side really works.

If you met me years ago, you’d think I had this already figured out. I took daring steps, threw my head back and laughed at it all. But inside, it was always a lie.  Inside, I despised the game that I couldn’t stop playing. I was a puppet and puppeteer all at once.

If you met me a month ago, you’d think I always told the truth. Comfortable in my own skin, even as I spoke of how much I hurt.  You’d think I had this already figured out.  I took cautious steps, lied my head down and cried. But inside, it was always a lie.  Inside, I despised the game that I couldn’t stop playing. I was a puppet and puppeteer all at once.

And now I rest between, forced into this place by loneliness. I try to stop thinking and simply feel. There is a calm in not knowing if this is all going to work out, yet knowing I don’t want to go back. I want neither ridge, neither me.  I want something different.

Is it possible to truthfully tell what lies inside, without destroying myself in the process? Would it be possible to ever trust someone with what’s inside?

The old me tried, and was left angry and alone. 

The new me tried, and was left confused and alone.

But in the valley, I am still creating.  The what ifs seem more possible, yet further away, everyday.

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