Lying on the ground, staring at the imperfections in the ceiling, the rays of light dancing through the cracks in the drapes, listening for my heartbeat, wondering how things could be where they are. No feelings, a dull ache that thuds and drones through my heart, a nausea building a home in my gut, residing and reminding me of the constant illness. If I lie here long enough will time stand still, will the broken pieces find their way back to me, re-assemble within my heart. I don’t know how to move, everything around me is the static of the TV screen, hours could go by without awareness. These are just motions, step by step, what needs to be done, what these limbs are capable of doing. Lying here, broken, the words did not come, I can’t explain, the reasons so clear but so unclear all the same. Broken, all the tiny shards, the words like slices, painful to the core, and I have no words, cant coalesce the intangible into the tangible, so here I lie, broken. Like a character without lines, pushed onto the stage, glaring in the spotlight, the understudy gone, encapsulating a tragic novel into mere lines, read the book, watch the movie, it all lies clear, skip the plot and reach the end and nothing is clear, the characters missed, the intricacies misunderstood, the plot denied, the ending will do nothing but fail regardless of how good.
Lying on the ground, still listening to the throbbing pounding of my heart, nothing has changed, the ceiling still stands, the shards twinkling, laughing. Words, how fierce they can be, making me into a changeling, a person in another story, watching, I watch the creation lying here, thinking, how did you make me into this form, so untrue, but living and breathing in another consciousness so far past my control. Within the cage of accusations I scream at the impostor construed to play my role, without the lines, therein lies a truth, it lies within this one, lying on the floor, broken, cradling the bloody shards in her hands, knowing, knowing that she needs to fight, that the truth should set you free, lift you from the floor, they were truths, I am not the changeling, she belongs to another, not me, i did not build her, she’s playing a role without my lines, the director creating a story about me, while I lie here, watching the cracks in the wall, letting words, horrible words, shatter my truths, my self, the good. I am good, there was a plot, there shouldn’t be pieces, we should be whole, but there she is, in the glory, in the light, holding sway, while here I lie, on the ground, broken.