Poets logo

Anchor Weight.

by Vanessa E-Daniel 5 months ago in sad poetry
Report Story

Vanessa E-Daniel

this photo is an edited version of Angel 41's Confusion painting

I didn’t realize that I continued going back to the same thing.

Over and over again.

And over.

And again and again.

I didn’t realize that this thing was so bad to begin with.

You see, I didn’t think I was perfect, I knew that was an impossible feat and I learned to be okay with it, but I did feel as though I was as good as I could get.

The only problem with that was that I was nowhere near as good as I could be.

I had created this problem.

All of my old routines. My characteristics and my state of beliefs.

The way I felt as though the world should be.

How I didn’t belong in it.

These things of old are still with me, the only difference is where they lifted me up before and kept me sane, they now hold me down and keep me from myself.

I am as confused as ever as I retort back to the same things of old that I ran from.

I wish them gone but I hold them close in my arms as I pray.

I want to be different but I desperately try to stay the same.

Who am I now if not who I was before? How do I live as myself in a way that I never have before?

Why do these questions haunt me? They dance in my head without answers. There’s no way for me to shut off the music that they move to.

I cannot move on. I cannot grow. I cannot be.

If I do not leave these old things.

If I throw them overboard, all they do is keep me still. If I keep them with me, they remain who I am.

I fear cutting them loose because what if I find that I was wrong? What if I do need them?

I fear being left with nothing.

I fear leaving them behind after they have stuck with me through so much.

But I long to live. I desire to be.

I keep wandering around the same mountain. Have I not reached the other side, or do I keep walking around in circles?

I feel lost and I am afraid.

What if I remain as such forever?

In this unknown state of being where all I know of me is my name and date of birth.

Things that were only told to me of me. Not things I came to learn of myself or make for myself.

How can I know these are true?

Do I shed myself of being and start anew?

When I look in the mirror and it’s the same face, should I address her differently or the same?

Should I tell her that everything will be okay even if I am unsure? Or should I watch her cry again, for her life?

How do I love her? How do I hold her? How do I know her?

She doesn’t know her. I don’t know her.

Does this make her unknown? If so, does she even exist?

I don’t know where to go and I don’t know what to do.

That which I’ve wanted for so long still seems so far away. I was so busy holding onto that one thing that I didn’t get to admire anything else.

I don’t want to keep waiting. Does that make any sense to you?

I want to live and I want to love.

I want to be loved.

I want to feel loved.

But I am scared.

I was scared of these things before, now I also fear that these fears will stop me from preventing my fears from becoming my reality.

sad poetry

About the author

Vanessa E-Daniel

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments (2)

Sign in to comment
  • Hanna Daniel4 months ago

    Absolutely loved “who am I now if not who I was before” a question that will continue to ring in my ears as i try my hardest to act anew. This was breathtaking. Thank you

  • Diann Daniel5 months ago

    There is something so beautifully articulated about the last paragraph. I keep reading it over and over again. The repetition of the word "fears" lingers in a way that reinstates the power of the hold that these fears have. I love it!

Find us on social media

Miscellaneous links

  • Explore
  • Contact
  • Privacy Policy
  • Terms of Use
  • Support

© 2022 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.