take a breath

I am not gasping for air, but I cannot remember the last time I truly exhaled.

Four seconds of relief;

Uncertainty exiting the mouth and traveling into the same environment with sufficient oxygen

 I just can’t seem to inhale.

The trees have been stripped of their vibrant leaves and hopes of new beginnings.

All that remains are the lonesome branches,

stagnant while the world twirls in their orbit.

 I crave the luxury of comfort brought by predictability

 And

 I am repulsed with myself for the similarities I have with these naked trees:

blown away,

fragile

To the slightest draft

 I am exposed to this dance where vulnerability is trampled by the constant search for perfection.

 We search for it in ourselves

 and when we inevitably cannot find it,

 we romanticize others who we perceive to have

 It.

 I grasp onto these seemingly perfect people, 

yet their grip only loosens from my increased efforts to hold on.

 They see through me:

imperfect

 insecure

 and in search of answers.

 Why should they be associated with someone so broken?

 Or worse yet—

 they don’t see through me, but past me.

 My persistent attempts to lessen their stress with affirmations I never tell myself remains invisible,

 just like the line drawn between the together and the fragmented.

 Ambitious and not easily defined,

These words transition to labels based on a mere number written in red ink on the top of a paper.

 Paper 

that stems from those same trees: torn apart and manufactured into a product.

Am I any different?

 I want to be

 And yet I feel myself molding into a shape I do not recognize in the mirror.

 Because

 How can I embody what they want when I am unsure of what I want?

 Still, I will count to four, open my mouth, and hope that I exhale:

 the insecurities,

 the imperfections,

 and the internal punishments

 I create for myself knowing that one deep breath

 Cannot

   release me from  my dwindling identity.

Eliza Francis

(CW: Verbal/Emotional/ Psychological abuse)