I have been avoiding for some time. At first the avoidance was at a distance, a good 10 feet apart, and I could dance with it, entertain myself with its magnetic need to look away.
Then avoidance grew closer, quiet sometimes, noisy at others. Its need to bow down, bow out, keep moving, keep busy, lest the pain consume, consume, consume, a steady pulsing river pulling me along for the ride.
Until it was touching me, running its fine silky fingers along my skin, settling in like netting on a fish, a blanket of constrained movement and form like a second skin.
The avoidance a thrashing, shrill voice, demanding I don’t look, don’t explore, don’t do anything, DON’T FEEL ANYTHING.
The irony is that at its core avoidance is pain. The very thing avoidance has tried to keep me from.
Now it is so close I must look it in the eye, its iris an angry blaze of electric fire, and I know there is no turning back. I am either going to let this beast consume, or I will hold its pain in my loving embrace.
And just look
And of course,