Roller Coasters

I don’t do well with emotional roller coasters. I also don’t do well with real life ones, either.

For the emotional ones, the unforgiving combination of my wild imagination and a ready-to-go slideshow of all the heartbreaks and disappointments that paint the walls of my memory only serve to stoke the flames of what-if’s that seem forever lined against my heart, waiting in the shadows to drop and blow up my heart.

I know…dramatic.

I try to avoid roller coasters. The real ones and the emotional ones. Especially those placed in my path by others. I react in one of two ways: I retreat. Or I surrender.

Retreating is hard. Because I am forced to ignore the burning pain that it causes. I don’t do well with pain either. Real or emotional.

Retreating does not spare me from the roller coaster. Rather, it spares me from the effects intended by the person or situation pushing me headfirst into it. Spares me from those but, in return, my heart gets dragged, scuffed and scarred. I retreat into silence, a cocoon of self-doubt, a labyrinth of self-examination and then I emerge later on. Sometimes as a butterfly. Other times, I am still a caterpillar. Those days, I hate retreating. But it spares me.

Surrendering gives me a headache. I never know which direction the roller coaster will take or where the person or situation will shove me. I give up a little bit of myself when I surrender. Funny enough, when I surrender, silence shows up too. My voice becomes muted, my opinions fade away and I am a shadow of my former glorious self. Many times, people comment that ‘something’s different…I don’t know what…’ and I stare through them and think. Surrender. It gives me a headache. And I do not emerge a butterfly or stay as a caterpillar. Instead, I become a ghost. A skeleton, barren of any opinions, emotions and life-thriving goofiness.

And so, roller coasters.

They break my heart either way.



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