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The Escape Artist was bound in a straitjacket and locked in a safe. The safe was brought to a housewarming party.
Shatter Me Featuring Lzzy Hale – Lindsey Stirling
The song, she speaks to me.
Almost had it.
Fist gripping glass so tight it turns
into sand slipping sliding shifting sifting
through my fingers
and no matter how hard I try to hold onto it and spin it into soild
hard into my palm until it hurts. It hurts
glass grinding into sand grinding into Soul
And I sit trying to remember the Fibonacci Sequence where 1+1=2, 1+2=3, 2+3=5, 3+5=8, 5+8=12, 8*12=20, 12+20=32
and yes I screwed up the sequence VIA my math but hey.
That’s par for the course.
Oh sweet goddess I’m sorry but I tried.
Earth. Earth. I am
Earth. Trying to feel her beneath my feet, toes curling digging in-
to roots so bare that if you blew on them the bark would
And then my bicep screamed and my tricep followed suit and my toes never did dig deep down enough and the voices in my ears set off the voice in my head and my arm
And I wait on the platform for that last bit of my soul to shatter as I stifle a sob because
Almost = Failure
and Christ…I just want that little piece to just turn into sand slipping
This is gonna hurt. Me. Not you. So please continue reading.
The Anniversary of my Mother’s death was yesterday. I dealt with it by getting out of bed and going to work. Then by being unfocused for most of the day.But that’s me most days.
A friend sent me a text message at 10:51 am saying “Hey – I know today will suck but hopefully you can find some solace in happy memories.” I didn’t respond until about 6:34ish (I keep my phone away from me at work. Just me), saying “Distracted at work, but I kinda like your idea. We’ll see.”
Paraphrasing isn’t even close to what I said, but it’s the ultimate gist.
Long story short. Got home, fired up the laptop, started farting around, hit WinAmp…
I’d forgotten about this song. (I’m good at forgetting lately.) Decided to listen to it.
We were all Tigers.
She was alone, with her Elder Tiger (my Gran). She did exactly what her mom had done. And here I was.
Cats don’t play fair. Dogs know where they’re ranked in the pack. Cats? If you survive? You’ve won. Doesn’t matter how many scars, missing ear or tail-tips. You breathe? You move? You sniff you smell you sense you taste you touch you meow you yowl you bristle you purr you breathe?
Is there sadness yes there is and yes it’s overwhelming when you look back and say “CHRIST what did I do????”
And the sadness will ever be in your eyes, etched on your face.
I hear me and Mom in this song. And Mom and Gran in this song.
(there may well be mischievousness somewhere along the line. Was told I get mine from Gran…Be that as it may…)
Yes, the end is discordant. But, then again, so is Death. No matter how much you know it’s coming, you’re never ready.
And, if you’ve spent both of your lives trying to avoid absolute honesty?
It ends badly for the one who survives. But. then again…I get to both learn, and teach from those mistakes. And maybe….
…Just maybe, someone will be my Bright Tiger. And maybe I’ll have done a little bit of good in this world.
I can hope, anyway. Where there is Life, there is Hope.
We were all Tigers. My Grandma. Mom. Me.
I Am My Mother’s Bright Tiger.
It scares the everliving shit out of me.
But I will walk well. Just as she did. And just as Gran did.
We Walk Well, We Do.
We have to.
And We Always Have.