It’s a strange feeling riding inside oneself.
Peering out of your own eyes not seeing,
But using them as if they were windows to a world too painful to live in wholly.
There are so many dimensions of me.
The outside me who accomplishes all that needs to be done.
The mover, the doer, the organizer, confident and self-assured.
Then peeking out from behind my eyes there is the inside me.
Hiding, cowering, so often frightened and confused.
Curled up small, shivering, and vulnerable to all the hurts of the outside world.
The inside me often screams to the out, “What are you doing?
“Why do you constantly push me to do that which tests my endurance?”
The outside me replies, “It’s called living.”
Facing the daily challenges of life pushing the boundaries to live outside yourself.
But sometimes the inside me is just along for the ride, hoping to survive,
Protected within the walls of being inside oneself.
Photo by Lilly Schelling © 2015
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moondreamerpublishing.com © 2015
