What if I just, turned it around
And walked out the door
And spoke my mind
And was myself?
What if I breathed in and out
And didn’t feel the growing shout
But only had to whisper
And I would make myself heard somehow?
What if I laid aside the shovel
And started messing with the rope,
And for once, I chose to climb higher,
Instead of always rolling down the slope?
Possibility?
Published
Writer In Retrospect 
Go and see.
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Hopefully I will.
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Most perceptive, Rachel.
When you allow yourself fresh air, and let your (true) soul to breathe, there’s no longer a need for shouting, is there?
Before, it was necessary to yell, as it’s the Imposter’s only means of silencing the person whose face she stole.
Truth, meanwhile, cleaves the very rock with its intensity, even at a whisper.
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No, indeed. And yet, strange how a soul so often clings to the familiar loudness — how stubbornly it refuses to embrace the peace it so often longs for. Is it human to be so contrary? To rage against, as if everything were the dying of the light? Perhaps I’m simply too afraid to know who I might be without that Imposter… Perhaps I’m afraid that aside from her, there’s nobody at all.
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…and so the Imposter would have you believe.
In fact, right now, she’s saying,. “Think about this, Rachel. Where would you be without me to take your lunch? Plus, you need someone to kick you in the shins right? Especially with my nifty steel-toed boots.”
I don’t know, Rachel, but I think it’s just about time you called her on her shenanigans.
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Ha! That does sound like her. Where would I be, indeed? I do wonder…
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