The Right Person

I'm waiting for the right person, and the right time, to share about my darkest secret. The forbidden emotion that once sprouted well in my heart. In all honesty, I humored the prospect of actually dwelling in that emotion too. Watered it, nurtured it. I was killing myself, I know, but it had felt so good.

Being bad always feels so good.

I'm waiting for the right person to tell, and I'm really, really looking forward to his reaction to my confession. Will he reprimand me? Will he stare wide-eyed, disgusted at me? Or will he smile bitterly and say, it's in the past?

 I'm also wondering, what kind of face will I make as I tell the story? What kind of tone and voice will I use to speak of the past I don't really lament?

I do not lament that aspect of me. No. I just think that it's part of the process. An important, precious part of it. Without it I wouldn't be the me I am right now. I figure that this secret will serve as a reminder.

Of my hidden insanity.

I am aware, when I reflect back to those days, that I've grown a dark part that spells insanity. At first it was fun; I was tired of being a good girl so this insanity helped relieve the stress. But now, as I look back, I found it not at all pleasing. A little scared even.

Will my right person also feel scared like this?

Not to mention that lately, my stress management has been bad. The insanity has been, well, maybe three or four years of dormant state--but with my poor stress management, I managed to provoke it again. In depressed times I find myself unable to stop the insanitty. It's coming back, even stronger, and still growing--and it eats away at my body and soul.

I try not to be scared. I try to accept it. Thinking perhaps, if I don't reject it, the insanity will ebb away eventually. I suppose it does, but during the process of slipping away, it still consumes my soul painfully. I'm afraid one day when it finally disappears completely, my soul would be left only so little.

Then I get scared again, and it brings me back to square one. Once again I find myself sitting at a place, blindly searching in my surrounding that tells me where I am, what I'm doing here, and who I have become.

I'm still waiting for the right person to come and take me home.