#performing tonight

My baby my sunshine, my hope on the darkest day

perched upon the ladder in the corner of his cage

A little feathered sweetheart that melts the pain away

when I write my diary he nibbles on the page

happy gentle twitters fill the once still air

fluffy feathers brush my face

he snuggles in my hair

A bell jingles as he plays, toys galore in his own place

My bubba, my little one, my reason to carry on

in an aviary of thousands I found you

the lottery I’ve won

the smiles to my face I hope to give you too

You’re the best companion, every day I thank the stars above

I'm in a codependent relationship with the carcasses of my past that still seem to breathe with the wind. I know I should bury them, but the stronger part of me would rather gag and swallow mouthful after mouthful of my own sour vomit as I attempt to cuddle the rancid flesh that falls off in clumps than be left with nothing.

I'm terrified of nothing.

I did bury it for a while, but every now and then I'd sneak back with a shovel and dig up the remains 'one last time'.

Once a month, became once a week, became once a day. I decided to just leave it gently under the tree next to the gravestone.

I still can't admit to myself if it was for ease or if the sound of my shovel in freshly dug dirt that made my skin crawl with guilt and shame was too much to handle.

I will die in the past, my life passing by without me. I'm addicted to picking at old, festering, puss filled wounds and laying next to rotting flesh to try and 'make sense of it all'

Does one move on by understanding or accepting?

I think I know... I think I've known for a long time.

I've always been horrible at acceptance, I run away from it under the guise of trying to understand. I run through events, stories and timelines in my head 24/7. I look back on old posts I reread old diaries I compulsively act out scenarios until I feel like I'm back there. Reread, rewatch, rehearse, relive. On the bus I find myself rehearsing reactions and facial expressions for scenarios that would never happen.

Reread, rewatch, rehearse, relive.

I accidentally trigger panic attacks because I compulsively start to hyperventilate to 'get myself in the headspace' to indulge my compulsions more easily, so they feel more real, so I'm ready for something that will never happen.