I have achieved another six chapters--the last lines of a life-long story and I have read them several times already...you see, I wanted something new
so I threw caution into winds of vulnerability and refused to be beaten by inbetween griefs that had stolen dire degrees of my emotions and etched them into soul as perfect pencil shavings. I eked them as extracts and called them "diary".
Day-by-day I have publicly pushed core too close to the fore for comfort and occupied my mind with over-vigilance, whilst searching chances to vary my styles and allowing sobs to move back and forth.
[I find it funny that I have scribed actual outcomes without first paving the path to get there...and the fact I was once attired in a whole masquerade, only to shed myself bare as my heart wrote off].
Yet my weakness is my impatience and I implore you to continue to read, for I wish to ride these realities right back to the beginning, to when the cracks began to cry and my title identified itself--
I am already set and wear italics down my spine and I'm inclined to see only my own confinements...because I am human and yet, not lunatic.
I have heard horrific hues and seen scenes of disgrace and I have wept over choices that only I made and I have forbade self a hundred ticks and twenty, from being absolutely right to fight for common decency.
I have needed to strive onwards, to revive self from drug-induced slumbers and stay focused, only to place us atop higher dares, aware that I was hope herself because there was no one else to cope. And so, I rewind...to flick back through my ages and recall poetry once placed here to heal
and how deeply I inhale the height of my heart--
for I have foraged for freedom through adversity; harnessed happiness inside dormant dreams; danced across loss that didn't kill us; cruised as a corpse along childhood ails and finished sentences before they'd even begun.
[I have also pealed twelve-ply taunts from off of my shoulders and wished away weight that wasn't yet dead...for I have bled too long, but not anymore].
I continue my visual regression and become a small image on dwindling leaves and my castle is clear to all who can see--I'm a reaction, a distraction in escapism's scream...and there, for a moment, I'm trapped in despair
yet inner strength still seeps as my aura.
I hesitate now and momentarily lose myself in life's breeze blowing against my nearly-born flesh--
those days reach-out for my child and yet, I rebuff those memories to sail away sane, while I linger as myself and bid unworthiness a firm farewell...and I place my embrace back into my shoes, counting a crew of confusion's contortions:
this life has been hell and circumstances have forced me to change shape and there are still many times when I gape in disbelief at the twists in my own tale; but I kiss acceptance anyway, simply so I can breathe.
In my hands, I hold my core, more unfinished than not and less than half completed [back-to-front in actual fact] but I'm having fun feeling the starts of smiles falling from my eyes, as I learn a little more about the light of my love...
so my extracts end here--it's time to take me back to the beginning and write my words upon unspoken sighs, so that future becomes much merrier to tread and when you've read all ruin and rise, close your eyes and absorb my title--
for there, etched in black...the truth be told:
inside, I am surviving.
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
Wow the raw emotional imagery here is very possible. Sometimes we have to just clean the slate, but we must always look back if just for a moment to reflect. Then sway into a better tomorrow. 
