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    kimjx6 wrote on Renee181's wall

    Good morning. How are you doing? How did your surgery work out?

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    kimjx6 posted a blog post

    The stalker

    I have a stalker. He is tall and muscular andgloomy.  He takes the very breathfrom my lungs the moment I see him. It’s there, clutched in his first, seepingthrough his fingers…dripping slowly to the ground until at last it’s gone.  And I stand there unable to breathe… That’s part of my soul you just took away. Justpulled from my chest like the strings of a marionette, tugging me towardyou and playing me for your amusement. When I’m frightened it makes me feellike a little girl, longing to wrap my arms around mommy’s leg and feel itsstrength and fearlessness. But sometimes, when I’m faking strong, I absolutelydo not care for these childish games. Now get out of my way now and let me pass. Let me pass orI’ll… He is always looming. He crouchesin the corner of my dreams. When I’m awake he steps out of shadows I don’t evenknow are there. I feel his presence creep upon me like a bottle of ink spiltacross a piece of newsprint. It’s horrifying. Not just because I’m scared—becauseI feel violated. Because this creepyis inside me. Around me. Hovering. You know it’s changed the color of my skin?I’m paler now than I used to be. Sickly. The circles around my eyes are darker,more pronounced and my eyes have sunk… my skin feels draped over my bones,leaving only a landscape of peaks and valleys with no discernable shape. 
    So much wreckage.  This is my life. I never knew what a big word that was until now. I had cutout the pattern and colored inside the lines. But I had no concept of howenormous it was. That my body—this complex system of cells with weight anddepth, sprinkled with thought and senses to help it maneuver in the world—issimply an emblem of life. Arepresentation, a translation, of my experiences. The child who absorbs lifelike a sponge is only meant to grow up—notout of her impermeability. I knowthis to be true so why can’t I have it? Make room for it? The creepy preventsme. 
    I have a vision that one day I willbe free. I am standing before an enormous window—in a castle above the clouds.It’s covered with silk sheers and they billow into the room as the wind blowsand my hair flies and twists wildly around my head. I walk toward the window,barefoot across a stone floor, deliberately, feeling the contour beneath myfeet. Heal, ball of foot, toes. I am grounded. The fluttering curtains assureme that I am alone here and their translucency seems to offer the proof I need.But I’ve been fooled before. I reach out to the window, harnessing the power ofthe wind, and grab hold of curtains. I rip them aside, my breath clamped down tight, veins flooding andrising to the surface of my pale exterior. There is no one there. No shadow, noimage, nothing. I am alone. Suddenly the deadbolt on my lungsis undone …and my breath is released for the very first time. I exhale andwatch the dust covered cobwebs get carried away with the wind, swishing andtwirling and tumbling into oblivion. I gulp in clean, fresh air and it fills meso completely that my feet are nearly lifted off the ground. I smile, themuscles in my cheeks pleased to be of service once again and they remind mewith a biting sting that they have lay dormant far too long. Alone. My veins retreat beneath thesurface of my skin and my color begins to change. I hear myself laughing, afamiliar tune but a new melody. Suddenly everything is new. I’ve been rebornand the woman is once again a sponge of innocence. No longer bound to a shadowyfigure in the corner of my mind. I am finally free. 
    But in the real world, I’m hauntedby a disease they say I no longer have. I take pills to stay awake and pills tosleep because every time I close my eyes I encounter the stalker and I’m tootired and too desperate and too weak to push past him into my dreams. I amconstantly afraid. I cannot listen to the radio, watch TV or read a magazine.In the real world I feel stifled and stiff and I struggle to push on… I want to pass… …to where I am pourus and weightedwith my surroundings not my surrender. To tell my story to everyone and letthem be inspired. I want my life and I want to package it in delicate paper andwrap it with purple ribbon and give it to my children. So that someday, muchsooner than I did, they will learn of the power that comes from within each ofus. This is my life now. I can’t reclaim the old one. He will always be inthe shadows, lurking. I can’t make him leave any more than I can change thecolor of the sky. I have no intention of embracing him or offering an olivebranch. No polite nods or awkward smiles when I feel his presence. If I am toexist I have to accept that, and with that, him. I don’t need to like it—onlyacknowledge that the pieces have a new shape; one with thicker skin and widereyes. Do you see me now? How do Ilook from your perch on the porch, from beneath the umbrella in the rain? Get out of my way and let me pass.If you don’t, I keep walking. With you in tow if I must but I will not beafraid and I will not be ruined. My window is waiting, and I will feel thesweet release from my lungs. Because this is my life, not yours, and I will notbe held captive. Not anymore.

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