Dam Burst

It’s a cold, damp evening. I am resignedly mending my fragile levee. A storm is coming, and I push through the numbness. I must. If I’m not careful, the raging waters will wreak havoc on my existence.

This dam is not secure. I step back and examine the patchwork design. The many leaks, attributable to years of halfhearted reinforcement.

Why do I even have this?

The question leaves my lips before I can stop it. The words linger in the air. It’s too late to take them back.

Just then, water begins to flow through a particularly weak point. I rush over. Back against my barrier, arms out wide, I stop it up with sheer willpower. Pure fear.

I stay like that for a long time. How long? I don’t know.

Is it finally time to show myself? I whisper, eyeing the slow trickle through one of the many cracks in my armor.

I look wildly around for external validation, knowing full well my efforts will be futile.

Not this time. This time I am the only voice that matters. I am the only witness to my imminent destruction and simultaneous release.

I am the only person in the world. This time, I give myself permission.

It’s time, I say softly to my leaky dam, my voice catches.

It’s time. Louder, as I step away and face my self-made barrier.

It’s tiiiime! I laugh manically, throwing my head back in the wind.

IT’S TIME!!!!!!!! I bellow, ripping boards loose, watching the current swell.

When it’s all over, I sit cross-legged, drenched. Surrounded by debris.

I stand up and smile to myself. Today, my life begins.

I walk upstream.