Inner life. (pt.3)

I thought I would never see her again. The innocent, free, beautiful side of me. It had been so long, I had given into my dark mask and thought it had already consumed me. But I guess that isn’t the case. 1

A mellow wind blew from all directions around me, tossing and tangling my long strands of copper-brown hair, which I had to constantly brush away from my face just to make sure what I was seeing was real. 2

Fields stretched for miles with a skinny, paved, road winding over the many rolling hills that the sun favored with it’s warmth. The day I thought I would never be able to live with myself, and contemplated suicide, was the day my parents announced we were moving to a farm. 3

I had always wanted to live on a farm, for as long as I can remember; everything from the harsh labor to the isolation appealed to me. And now I’m here, and I feel like I can let my defenses down again. 4

For a few moments at least. 5

Like when I’m laying alone under a tree, in an open field, and there is not another human being for acres. 6

Sometimes I like to run. Just run. Until my sides ache and my lungs can’t take another breath. 7

It makes me feel as if I am a part of everything around me. Everything in nature. I love that feeling. And standing here, looking out over the only, true place where my soul belongs, I can see my brighter half walking down the road to greet me. She looks different from what I remember, though. 8

She’s still clad in a breath-taking white garment, and when the sun hits it, a yellowish glow appears around her, as if she has a halo for her entire body. But she’s younger than I remember, with hazel eyes, like mine, only hers reflect an eternity of wisdom and depth which you would never think possible to harness. 9

And she seems about the age of five or six, instead of my age. As she comes closer, I can hear her humming a soft melody, a song I haven’t heard since I was her age; she takes my hand, and though I am older than she, having seen much pain and suffering, I feel naïve and unaware next to her. 10

Her humming branches off into singing, and though the tune is familiar I listen tentatively to her words, having forgotten the lyrics long ago, “Swing low, sweet chariot, coming forth to carry me home. Swing low, sweet chariot, coming to carry me home……….” 11

She continued as we started walking down the road, and for once in my life, I was at peace. A light, excited, feeling coursed through my body. One which I had never experienced before.12

If I had jumped or ran, letting this unfamiliar feeling soar like it so badly wanted to, I think I might have floated up in the air. But I tried to keep it down as much as possible with it crawling around on my insides, causing a tickling sensation. 13

Now that was something that my dark mask wasn’t used to. It cracked from the pressure. And then slowly, inch by inch as we proceeded walking, it crumbled and coward, tucking itself away.14

For now. 15