I ignored the ache of my soul for far too long

Is it too late?

My heart desired freedom

Indescribable longings and callings

Never heard

Never answered

Am I wrong for learning to love my prison cell?

Should I have continued banging my head against the bars?

This Stockholm Syndrome is not my fault

Too many days

Looking at the green mountains

Through classroom windows.

Too many days

Looking at the wild ocean

From a household like solid ice.

What was my battle with derealization

But the reality of my heart not made manifest?

What was my battle with depersonalization

But the inability to express my true self?

I joined the funeral march

For this is the way.

“This is necessary,”

I learned to tell myself

As I put on my own chains

“This is necessary,”
I learned to tell myself

As I silenced my voice, lest I let myself be a hated pariah

“This is necessary,”
I learned to tell myself

As I quieted the wild longing to transcend, to transcend anything, to leave the mundane, for my spirit ached and screamed and clawed and dreamed

But “this is necessary” I’d still tell myself,

And I still tell myself to this day,

That this is all necessary

The pressure will be too much to bear one day

But that day is not today.

This is necessary.