- someone or something that gives a person a sense of protection or a feeling of security.
I have reached for you as if my very reason for existing was held in the palm of your hands. As if the slightest brush of our fingertips would give me just enough leverage to finally grasp my purpose.
I’ve clutched you to my chest as if you had the power to block my nightmares. As if holding you close might somehow stop me from falling into the abyss that is my insanity.
I’ve held you to my lips as though the taste of you would linger there forever. I’ve smelled your cologne…I’ve memorized the sound of your voice, as if you were my very last piece of home.
All this time I’ve carried you with me, because it felt like I couldn’t live without you…like if I ever left you behind, I be leaving part of me. Losing my identity.
All this time you’ve been my insecurity blanket. You were never the keeper of my purpose, you were the one who made me doubt that I had one.
You were never a dream catcher, you were the monster that was the subject of those nightmares. You were the reason I thought that the little voice telling me to let you go made me crazy.
You were the bitter residue I could never identify. You were the odor that seemed to penetrate fresh air.
You were the catch in my throat.
But now I’m my own safe haven. The only person I trust with me, is me. I see now that the only protection I need is to display those parts of me that you so desperately wanted me to dispose of. You’re no security blanket but you are proof that the people who can’t handle all that I have to give do not deserve it.
Now I’m secure enough to see that you were never a piece of home, you were just the fire that burned it down.
And the funny thing is, those parts of me that you wanted to bury now make up the armor I’ll wear as I stand in that fire and watch you burn.