Confrontation

I told someone again. I used words that I wrote years ago because I've lost the connection and my current thoughts are all jumbled up.
I used the old words. It hurt.
I suppose that's the root the bottom the end the beginning the tangled web of then and now - the hurt.
I thought it was gone. Maybe it was, for awhile.
It's a thing that's never buried, never over, never gone, no matter how much I wish it away
Or lock it up
Or hide behind the daily tasks of life
And in that place of truth I am
Despaired.
How often the things we want are stripped away to our basic need
I hold on so tight and it hurts;
The jagged edges of life are uninspiring, even ugly;
Confronted, I am turning away.
Until I tell again. Using words from so long ago because I've lost the connection and my current state is so full of suffering.
Because I cannot hide, I cannot bear up under the weight of these expectations.
In the lies of my despair I cannot rephrase or remain silent.
I am absolutely certain that I am being taken over and that I am being found,
Bloodied.
It hurts.