Switch

As I lie here listening to the trees rustle, the thunder rumble, and the lightening snap I cannot but feel my soul be one with this storm. It is quiet, but turbulent nonetheless. It is a soft grumble beneath my skin; to the depths of my being. My mind is not silent, though it neither cries nor screams. It is not content.

I ask questions that I do not want to answer, for the answers lead me nowhere out of this feeling. I have let so much go in the past - it seems now all that was let go has come back to torment me.

Once upon a time I was a master at dissassociating. I toiled to forget that skill, for it had become such a horrible habit that it nearly ruined me. Now I long for it. Woe is me, for I have broken the switch that escaped me from my feelings.