Awakening
Words used to be my identity. They were my superpower to mold and shape to fit any place I needed them. With words, I could hone a weapon or a shield, a starlit sky or a roof to block out the elements, a place of love or hate, a cage or freedom at its finest. Words were everything until they weren't. Until I succumbed to the routine of mediocrity that stripped me of them. Now what I have are ruins of all that I used to be and all that I could have been. It'd be easy to say someone else tricked me, and trapped me in a wordless and colorless demise. But I did it to myself. I made this prison with unwritten and unspoken words and then I hid the key that faded along with any potential I might have had. I made this grave of broken dreams and tainted memories and then I buried myself with the falsity and belief that I needed someone else to rescue me. Always the damsel never the knight, the picket-fenced-in lady hidden by the pretenses that society told her. The truth is often ha...