Shadows of the past

There's a feeling in the pit of my stomach. Some would call it dread, others call it intuition. I call it a pain in the butt, because it's there and there is no explanation for it. It turns carefully formed responses into the bitter truths that I can't avoid, but can avoid speaking about. It hits me often late at night. It's part reflection, seeing my past through new eyes and counting my regrets and wondering if I can resolve them. Thankfully they're few and far between and most are already resolved. The ones that aren't, eat away at me spiritually, like a serpents venom urging me to take action. Find the cure, fix the regret. Write the words, say what you mean, inflict damage, even though you only want to cure yourself of the poison inside eating away at you. I sit here in this quiet room of privilege, trying to be grateful, but always left wondering why? Why is my life this way? Don't get me wrong, it's not a bad life. In fact, it's quite blessed and if I can use my words to spread this good fortune I will, but then the shadows of the past come back up to bite me. They don't care that I'm one year away from a Bachelor's Degree and should be excited or that I'm a few weeks away from joining the Kung Fu Tai Chi club of Seattle. No, the shadows want something else. Some feeling they've been guiding me to achieve and lamenting every time I've failed. I'm not savvy enough to pay attention, to know the answers, the truth. I only know parts of it, bits and pieces, jumbled together to give me something to reach out to before it floats swiftly out of my reach. My life used to be ruled by this pursuit. Chasing the shadows of the past, hoping they can explain the me who is now. The one who feels challenged mentally, and protected physically. The one who has to fortify her emotions and carefully plan human interactions to not activate the button located in the pit of her stomach. Every time I've come close to grasping some part of my humanity, I screw it all up and throw it away. Of course not on purpose, but how do you know to preserve what you don't know needs preserving? How do you avoid loss and grief, when it becomes like snapshots of sorrow so strong they have become tangible? Every human interaction becomes a minefield of positive and negative reactions, making me wonder what is the purpose? It hasn't always been this way. In fact, I know exactly when it changed, but I don't know why it had to. 'I was happy' is the only refrain running through my head or rather I was blissfully ignorant. I expected rejection, isolation, solitude from those outside of my family and had just gotten used to a new solitude within my immediate family unit. I longed for the fantasy of human interaction. The ones involving lifelong friends you've known half your life, a true love found at first sight and broken family's finding their way to whole again, but I accepted that was not reality. I didn't pursue it, until one day my eyes were open to it. Always reluctant to trust this new comraderie, I waited for the one year mark to pass, but they kept getting longer and longer. No more one year formula's of friends who I know one year and either they or I move away. No more, they spoke to me last year, why not this one? However, that connection was still there. A strange and powerful connection drawing me to one alone at a time. Always one. Never for attraction, but something else. Kindness, I thought, a certain ability to not fear me or place me in awe. A bit of normalcy, but also a feeling of being protected while being respected for my ability to do so on my own. It was a novelty. People come to me for protection, whether emotional or physical, but no one has ever wanted to protect me before. Motherly love in this instance doesn't count. That's a given, but strangers, people with no investment because you are their progeny? No, They expect you to protect yourself. Fighting, fighting, always fighting. More and more battles to win and one day on a Eastern born wind someone stops with concern in their eyes and asks me am I okay? Someone asks me to play. My limited world of violence suddenly has sunshine, but just like the once a year friend, they all go away. Everything I've ever loved has gone away. So I try not to love any more. Those who hold my love will remain until the end of our lives most like, because we have forged our bonds in fire and through time. However, on occasion, there's a feeling in the pit of my stomach, for all those who no longer walk beside me, but the shadows of their ghosts remains fresh in my mind. I wonder how they are, what they're doing and if they're happy. I wonder if they know how much they meant to me or am I just another faded memory? The shadows of my past will not let me be, but all I can do is move forward and hope one day, I'll have an answer why I was chosen to carry this burden with me for the past 16 years.