I’m struggling.

I’ve woken up and wiped the sleep from my eyes.  I hear whir and a whoosh, and tilt my head to look around me at my surroundings.  Another whooooosh!  Something tickles my ear and I reach up, running my hands along something new and unfamiliar.  As I explore the thick strands of something unknown around my face, I feel the slightly jagged edges and the wet dew.  It’s grass.  Jumping up, I look around, confused.  In the middle of the battle grounds, there I stand.  I don’t know how I got here, but here I am.  An arrow whizzes by, too close to my face and suddenly I realize what all of the whirring and whooshing had been.  I’m being shot at and I have no idea from which direction.

I’m struggling.

A friend asks how I am, only to cut me off immediately.  You are not loved.

My blog link isn’t included among those of everyone else I know.  You are not important.

A handful of emails and phone calls go unanswered over a span of time. You are not worthy.

The tears aren’t noticed.  You are invisible.

My current “battles” are less than new, and I’m not finished fighting them yet.  In fact, I’m just now getting around to facing them.  Then, someone says:  “You’re not over that yet?” You are not good enough.

I am not invited.  You are not wanted.

Someone betrays me.  You are not worthy of love or friendship.  This is MY fault.

Someone tells me “no.”  No, because it’s you.

An argument erupts because my “feelings” aren’t what I SHOULD be feeling.  You are not understood.

A blog is posted and after I scrape out the contents of my heart onto a concisely printed page, I hit “publish,” terrified.  Still, my home is filled with silence. You are alone.

Not a word is said after I miss an important event because getting out of bed was just too much that day.  You are weak and you will not be missed

Lately, the arrows have been coming in fast and hard, occasionally grazing my flesh.  Daily, now, I’m fighting so hard to not let these lies become my truth.

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