4

4

When I was 4

I had no concept of when “next Wednesday" was...
To me it was an indeterminable abstraction

that made me wish the present moment away

Processing the past with adult eyes

I see portions of my life

whittled away by ignorant beliefs

Yours

not mine

for in my own minds eye

I was fine

Back then…

Summers went on longer

than the sincerity in which you viewed my reality

the grass, blending into endless fields

with a simple adjustment of my vision

Driving in the back seat of my fathers car,

I was always transfix by the full moon,

which I believed was following me

and always seeing Angels float by

But in hindsight,

that memory of the painted dot on the asphalt

in the middle of the playground when I was 8

was the best indicator

that my ability to process trauma

was anything but ordinary

The roller-coaster of undetectable emotions 

were not a reliable barometer

of just how well I was staying on track

So many wasted opportunities

...And yet

I retained my own equilibrium

in a bubble of self-realized awareness

None of which you could ever share in.

(c) Divinia Nightfire 25th November 2014

note: the "angels" and grass morphing were simple visual anomolies, Blue field entoptic phenomena, Floaters, visual snow and after images, something I still enjoy greatly to this day. Similar to how people see auras, by non focus on soft outlines in certain light rather than hard focus.
As a child, they were a calming, familiar comfort and something that kept me entranced when I was self soothing.