The Game

The Game of life is never ending.
After some choices, we end up going back a few spaces,
others, we move ahead.
Then, there are the special spaces:
All of these spaces help us to move ahead more quickly,
they help us to accept ourselves as we are which will help us to be happy.
Then, there are the spaces that move us back:
mental illness,
These cause us to move back several spaces.
More spaces than helpful spaces.
These make us move back weeks,
even years.
They set us back from recovery,
then they tease us by telling our brains we don’t need recovery,
we don’t deserve the good spaces when all we are is worthless.
The problem with this is that we believe those voices, and we grab the sharp edge and drag it across our skin to prove to ourselves we’re still alive.
To prove that we can feel and that we aren’t numb.
To prove that we are capable of at least physical feeling, if not emotional.
This leads us to moving back even more spaces.
We ruin our relationships,
hurt the ones we love.
Hurt ourselves more than ever and slip back into old habits of self hate and self harm.
Suicide occupies every thought.
Eventually we run out of spaces to go back, and eventually find a reason to move forward.
We find support,
we ask for help,
we do something that will move us forward square, by square.
The terrain is rocky and rough, but we all end up in the same place at the end of the game.
Six feet under, in a grave,
or science experiments,
or ashes spread in a tranquil meadow.
We all die, no matter our path,
It will all end, but the path we take determines whether each space was worth it.
Worth the back spaces.


2 thoughts on “The Game

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s