I Live on the Edge

 I live on the edge of my mind and real world.

I live in my head. I think over every detail. Analyze every possible outcome to every hypothetical situation. I use hesitance as a tool and a preventative. Looking for every cliff to fall off and every ladder to climb. No pitfall can’t be seen too soon. No possibility can’t be considered. It is a careful, delicate process.

I live in the real world. There is no stopping. Time chases me towards every cliff and ladders pass me by as I sprint to stay ahead of it. Hesitance is a deadweight dragging at me. I trip over roots I could not have seen coming and dust kicked by my feet blind me. It is rushed and it is harsh; a painful process.

I live with my thoughts. I keep secrets for tiered hearts, yet am too afraid to give my own. Wary of snakes in a perfectly maintained garden. Smart people don’t get bit twice. I keep myself contained. Things I think that others don’t know I can feel swirl like the colors in a bubble, almost impossible to see. I scream my colors to the void, letting it dull the rainbow into something not so painfully bright. It works well enough.

I live in reality. I have friends and family to keep my secrets should I choose to tell. They help look for snakes so I can keep my garden. Smart people don’t do it alone. I let myself be. I confide in them the emotions others might not see. The colors otherwise dull are made clear to them, and they help me shine at my brightest. It works better than anything.

I live in compromise. I balance it all. I take the time to plan my actions and execute them well. I’ve learned to navigate my life like a well-practiced dance. Learned to recognize the pitfalls and roots without looking for them. Know where the snakes are without thinking. I’ve learned what ladders are worth climbing and how to get ahead of the ever-present threat of time. Who I tell my colors too. Like the delicate, intricate systems that make up our planet, it all balances perfectly.