There are days I feel I am the luckiest girl in the world. I have great friends. I have a great career. I have a world of opportunity at my feet. I have to almost pinch myself that this is my reality – some days. There are days too that I feel like I am living a lie. That I am somehow misrepresenting myself because someone believes or believed in me and I don’t see it. I don’t see why they think I am this special being. I don’t see why they think I have so much talent. This is what doubt feels like.
It caresses my ankle and I whisper it will be okay. Everything will be fine I say. It subtly encircles my leg as it carefully tightens its grasp. I disassociate from this limb.
My body knows it is there for it has been there before. It is an old enemy that I know too well. It has reared its head again. I want to believe that it is my friend. That it is here for my own good. That it will provide motivation. My instinct tells me this is not a good creature. I turn a blind eye as it prowls farther up my body.
I feel it enter me with a sharp pain as it overcomes my gut. It entwines itself cramping its path. It is shutting me down subtly. It is taking over my body without my mind wise.
It continues up and thrusts itself through my heart. The racing ache starts. My body is aware of this entity taking me over. My mind stills its eye blindly to this foreigner and focuses on the day.
It enters my vocal cords capturing my voice. My bodily muscles writhing in warning. They are painfully foreboding – screaming at my mind to awaken to the situation.
It slithers higher. Slithering up to take me down.
It slices my spine as I disconnect. My body arcs in response to this familiar fiend. It has laid with me before. It has presented as a tender lover when it was laced with poison.
It has a way of deceiving me when it is here. It has a way of evading tripping my alarm. When I awaken to the enemy, it is already too late. I am already its puppet.
It has clamped down on my head with spikes pointing toward my brain. With staples along my neck. With daggers down my spine.
It has taken me often. More often than I can admit whilst in your eye I look. Without feeling shameful. Without wanting to walk away shy.
It grows spikes down my bones and pierces my muscles as it overtakes me wholly. It shuts me away from the world as it covers my confidence and spikes my intake with deathly doubt.