Pushing Down Daisies.

Laura. Laura, hello? Listen to me. Acknowledge me. You’re not good enough, Laura. Why won’t you listen? Why won’t you FOCUS FOCUS FOCUS I am important. Am I not important? Am I the ghost now? Anxiety Panic. don’t breathe don’t breathe no air no air sinking deeper darker and then a thought, cutting through the black Wait. When did I agree to be your therapist? When did I agree to take your problems and hold them in my hands? My own voice was screaming I couldn't hear it over the sound of me saving you. The butterflies I kept for you? They've been scared away. They're gone. So, stay back. You carefully concocted creep. Keep yourself at a distance. Die or disappear, it’s nothing to me anymore. Not something for me to fear. My hands are my own again. My screaming stops. My air comes back. Finally. Free. Free. Free. Free. Free. Free. Free! And in the quiet that followed the quiet after the storm the quiet where the ghosts used to scream A different voice whispered. Now life isn't as foggy. Cleared my dodgy sight, made sure the path I walk ain't as rocky. An easy peace. A final rest. The thought of lying down in a field not getting back up. They tell you that’s the end. Pushing up the daisies. But the sun hit my face. The air filled my lungs. My hands, my own again, curled into fists. No. Not me. I’m pushing them down. Pushing down daisies with every step on this cracked pavement. Planting my feet in the dirt refusing to be buried in it. This isn’t the end of my story. This is the part where I hold the pen. Every breath is a choice. (I choose this one) Every beat of my frantic heart is a victory. (It’s mine now) I’m pushing down daisies. Watering them with the tears I refuse to let you see. Growing a garden on the ground you thought I’d be under. I will not just survive this. I will live it. Loudly. I am the roots now. I am the bloom. Defiant. Alive. Pushing down daisies. Yeah. Pushing down daisies.