Novacane

I have died a thousand deaths yet every death feels like the first.

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When the heavens split open and I fell out of it, I landed on my back. The fall was life changing, life forming. It formed the path my life would take and changed the way my life should have panned out. I say should because I'm in denial, I refuse to accept this is what it'll always be for me.

Am I a kite runner? It feels like I'm always chasing the wind.

I don't think so.

I stand still sometimes and the wind comes to me. It comes to me in the form of solid ground asking me to set my feet on it firmly. It tells me to trust it, to get on all fours and feel it. Feel its firmness, its stability and its permanence. I eye the reddish dirt with suspicion unsure if to come out and play in the sand. I eye its lush greenery, jealous of the soil that has raised such beauty with love. I too want to be nurtured like that.

Paranoia is a friend I know too well. I call her a friend because I refuse to accept that she's my twin. She was wound so tight against my ankles when we fell. She shadows my every movement in complete silence, her heavy breathing over my shoulders the only reminder of her existence. She likes my feet firmly on the floor, she swears it's what's best for us. I don't doubt her. Every time I have defied her, I have had hell to pay.

I feel like a caged bird.

Every morning when I come to stare at this piece of land, her breathing strums like a heartbeat. Full of fear and warning. I don't get it. This land is so firm and rich. It's the type of ground we've always wanted. Maybe we can build a home here, take shelter from the storm here. Maybe the rich soil could water our withered roots and make us whole again. Maybe we could stand tall here, find peace here. Maybe.

I'm wary of her breathing. I wonder why she can't just speak clearly to me for once. I want to interpret her breathing as a sign to stay away but my feet have grown tired from the endless wandering. My back aches and desires a bed to return to at night. We want the simplest of things. Things this land can give without breaking a sweat.

Come to me it beckons.

I set my feet upon it slowly, one toe at a time. Unsure. Scared but trusting. Trusting in words this earth has whispered to me countless times, the promises of land strong enough to hold me. I push paranoia off my shoulders asking her to be still and watch me return triumphant. I will bring us a home and a friend.

Whiplash.

The sound of the earth splitting open underneath my feet just as I manage to find my balance. In an instant, I watch the grasses fold into the earth as the land swallows it up. It is nothing but thin air.

“You're too heavy” it says in a voice cold and distant.

I did not recognize this voice. This was not the voice that had called to me night and day. I tried to scream as I thrashed in the air trying to grab hold of something, anything but no words left my mouth, my breathing mirrored that of my dear sister whose warnings I had shaken off in naivety. I was free falling, crashing through rain clouds that stole a piece of my flesh with every crash. My eyes could not hold tears, this pain was full and familiar. I had been here before. In a distant past, I could barely recollect.

Oh paranoia, how I wish I could hold you and tell you I understood now. I was you and you were me. The me before and the me after.

The clouds parted as I collided into a babe, I wrapped my arms around her tightly, this fall was going to shatter our backs. In my arms I watched her grow sporadically, I fumbled to hold onto her and grabbed her ankle for support.

Bracing myself for impact, I caressed her face that spat out mine. How

much longer will this continue?