Enigmatic Phoenix

Her mind was a puzzle piece within a maze and her heart was in one of the many crevices of that maze. She thought she was broken in more ways than one and it was a constant struggle for her to piece herself together after being repeatedly broken by herself and others. She gave her heart so willingly to anyone which would eventually be the cause of her demise.

Here she is, a few years and a handful of experiences later, a new person on a new path. She is desperate for change, hates a routine but longs for stability. And craves the love she reads and writes about. She is a paradox within itself. Since I began writing 5 years ago, I’ve always typed or written in third person’s perspective. It forced me to remove myself from the situation and narrate my life from a bird’s eye view. It helped me conceptualize what I was feeling. Understanding the ambivalent feelings I had on a constant and endless loop. 

Posting my work online didn’t necessarily phase me because I was detached from the characters in each poem, at least I convinced myself that I was. It was good until I became detached from myself, beyond the writings. I was like an outsider overseeing a stranger make both bad and good decisions on the behalf of both of us. I’d experience the aftermath and go through the motions for two people instead of one. I’d watch my… her life, fall apart right before my eyes and could do absolutely nothing about it. 

It had to stop. I had to stop the perpetuated and cyclical mess that I oftentimes found and put myself in. I started by writing from a first person’s perspective. Started using “I” statements and spoke more directly and specifically about my experiences. I started to realize that I was her, I’ve always been her… an enigma. I love socializing as much as I love being in my own space. I love a good party, but I do love a good book. I hate feeling lonely, but I love being alone. I don’t care to be like everyone else albeit the hate I hone for feeling excluded. 

I started learning myself and accepting the fact that I’m a bit different. I now know that I’m not broken, just battered. Despite being bruised and used, I remain resilient and rise above the dust like a phoenix. I’m battered, not broken. I am one person. The enigmatic phoenix gradually finding her way through the maze of her own mind.