By Georgie Waters
This has never been easy for me,
Waiting for a sense of security. Stability.
Because the anxiety, which resides within me,
Constantly bubbles until it explodes out of the pot,
Leaving my brain scalded by the intense and unpredictable heat.
So that’s why I cling to you, the soothing, icy water,
As you extinguish the heat which scorches me.
And the steam I release when you let me open up eventually cools,
Forming droplets which fall to the ground.
But when I don’t hear from you, the fire reignites underneath me,
Fuelling a fear which reminds me of moments in the past
When I’ve been left alone,
And of the times when the situational fire burnt so much
That my mind was charred with self-hatred and hopelessness.
But it’s not your fault; you’re not doing anything wrong.
I can’t change the temperature of the fire or how often it appears,
But over time, I will learn to add more water and grind more salt
To increase the time it takes for my water to boil,
So that I can learn other ways to cope with the fire
When you’re not there.