My Inner Child

My inner child leaps and dances and smiles with the Irish music that plays in the truck. She tries to break free from the prison I keep her in. In her dark cell she colors and sings every now and again, she’ll dance to the music I hear time and again, her laugh is sweet and innocent as I hear jokes. I know I am that inner child because she helps keep my broken mask on and together. She’s there to tell me about the butterflies flying past, or the puppy in the yard we drive past, or to point out pretty colors from the corner of my eye.  Most of the time though I shove her away, telling her to stay quiet in her cell that I created with my mind.

She’s no longer so much my friend that we’re the same person, now she’s just an acquaintance that I hardly ever talk to and barely care about. At the same time though, I care for her just enough to cry over our lost relationship. Every now and again her emotions come through to me. When she’s feeling scared and enclosed in her little cell I feel just as afraid as her just as if I was behind said bars. I think she’s the person rooting for me the most though; you should’ve seen her jump for joy when my mom said we could talk to my doctor about my mental breakdowns.

Just to let everyone know; I haven’t been writing on here recently because my depression hit me with a frying pan and every time I tried to write I just started crying and curled into a ball for hours. I was hurting so bad nothing was helping me. I started taking these like over the counter toddler calming medication because I just would completely lose it for no reason.