Wish Dish | Share Your Story

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The Puppeteer

I try over and over, and I tire with every effort put forth.

I want to combat this.

I want to be better, but somehow the things that make me better can sometimes make me worse.

It is hard to explain to people who haven’t been here, walked under this cloud that fogs my visibility and speaks uneasiness into every step.

They don’t know what it is like to pray with each new step that it might be your last because the pain is becoming unbearable.

They don’t know how it can convince you that you and it are one. It is part of you, in you, and it is your fault.

You want it to be there because it is your only friend, the only constant.

I walk around living in the reality that the cloud is not only over me, but has rooted itself so deep within me that it can control me like a twisted puppeteer.

I have found that there is one thing that always helps for a while.

When a friend steps out of their sunlight and sits down on my bench, under my cloud and rainstorm, it wakes something new in me.

Every time, it catches me off guard because the puppeteer tells me that there isn’t anyone in the world who would want to risk their happiness to love me.

“Why are you here?” I say as my words catch in my throat.

“Because, I love you, and you don’t have to feel this,” they respond unknowingly.

They then slowly walk me out from under my cloud unaware that I carry it inside myself.

It is always so nice to feel that sunlight for a little while, but then the cloud speaks up again urging me to run from this love.

“It is unpredictable. They will get tired of you. You are a burden that no one wants to take care of,” it whispers into my ear.

“But they said they loved me. Were they lying?” I respond in anguish.

“No one could ever want you,” it replies, “You are not even worth my breath.”

And the cloud falls silent as I roll into a ball shaking unable to make any sound at all.

My mind whirls and searches for the moments that I felt loved that I knew it was real, but somehow they all seem artificial and insincere.

“Did they mean it when they said to call them when things got bad? They are busy. They couldn’t possibly want to come sit on my bench.”

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The Puppeteer

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