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Inside she banters.

Inside she sweats.

Inside her veins pulsate from her toes to her chest.

Inside she is uneasy.

Inside she feels small.

Inside her thoughts can barely crawl.

Sometimes we are boxed in.

Sometimes we cannot get out.

Sometimes there is no space for expression, out loud.

The world may say otherwise.

The world may project different versions.

Opposite.

But the rules and expectations stand bold.

Seen clearly,

They are not missed.

What happens to her?

To that source stemmed from inside.

When she feels lost in the world and constantly asks herself why?

Does she blame that life rule?

Does she blame that life script?

Or does she turn on herself

And believe that she is the reason for the rift?

Does she begin to question her being

Her core pieces inside?

Then slowly start to alter

So she blends in with the outside?

Does she turn some levels up

Accentuate their being?

While removing others completely

So they would be lost from her scene?

Will she mourn her self losses?

Will she be sad deep inside?

Try to find meaning in her new being

In the world that is outside?

Will she tip-toe as she progresses?

Thoughtfully ponder each step

Hold herself to high standards

Will she not be granted one misstep?

Will she focus on the others?

So she can ensure they do not feel this way?

Find joy in helping

Try to make others smile, each day?

Will these things become her identity

As she walks through the world?

Will she find joy and contentment

Knowing that she found her place to externally hold?

Will she forget much of what happened

Those internal changes that she made?

As she walks and grows older

Monitoring each step, everyday.

Will she notice she is doing it?

Grasping with dear life to the control

Or will it be a norm that goes unnoticed?

That immense tension, the natural state of her days as they unfold?

Will she find her place?

Her success as they would say?

Through those seemingly permanent levels

That she had altered at a young age.

To the exterior, no question.

She's good.

She's well.

When turned to the inside

How would she say that she felt?

Would she feel that something is missing?

A piece of her soul muted, turned low?

Would she ponder deeply

What is inactive?

Could it be a reality that a piece of her was let go?

Would she allow those questions to brew?

Or would she stop them in their tracks?

That is impossible.

Crazy.

How dare her mind go down that path.

Would she, at some point, be okay?

And others, not so much?

Would there be some points when she would lose

Within herself, her felt touch?

Her true self-understanding.

Her external reality control.

Would there be pieces of time that stand, in her memory, a blur?

Would she begin to notice felt struggles

Inside of her being?

Would she exhaust her energy to ensure

That outside those things go unseen?

Would she get really good

At managing that script?

Or would some pieces become visible?

Would her external world now feel in conflict?

The world says that trials are wrong.

Trials should not be expressed

Others should not be able to say that they saw

A trial, struggle or rift.

If those pieces breakthrough

If others see the unrest

What is she to do

To hide that scene from the rest?

Would she begin to again feel the banters?

Again experience the sweats?

Would her veins again pulsate

From her toes to her chest?

Would this feeling feel familiar?

Would she understand its deep roots?

Or would the cycle repeat

With level churning, would it conclude?

Would there ever come a day

When the understanding would click?

Would she notice the cycles?

Would she recognize the forced control that she exhibits?

Would her continuous struggles

Be a whisper toward the truth of her play?

With each trial she felt

With each hurdle on the track

Would another layer be uncovered

To the true story of her path?

Would she slowly learn to understand

That she had once altered her being?

That she held an abundance of control

So that she would fit in with this life's scene?

Would she slowly remember

The levels that she had turned

So she could find safety in a world

That felt too big for her soul to be heard?

Would she remember that she feared her feelings?

The way that she felt things so deep.

That she felt she was different.

And that she feared what, for her life, that would mean.

Would she recognize how she adapted

So she could try to feel fine?

So she could strive to blend in

And not worry about fitting in

With the world's defined lines.

If she did come to recognize

To understand these things

What then, in that moment

Would that now for her mean?

How would she react?

How would she then navigate the next steps?

How would she progress onward?

Would that life now be left?

Or would she find challenges?

Would she be met with grave fear?

As she navigated her steps onward

With this knowledge now near?

Would she remember what she altered?

Which levels were muted or turned up?

Or would those memories remain a mystery

And inside deeply,

Would she feel stuck?

How could she remember?

How could she find the missing pieces of that tape?

So she could come face-to-face

With the insight into the parts of herself

That at one point remained?

Is it possible she would begin to feel numb?

Experience loads of questioning inside?

As she took steps in the world

Would she fear if she would be able to decipher

The truths from the lies?

Would she worry immensely?

That she was still living life in this way?

As she desired intensely

To leave that way of living astray.

Would it perhaps be a work in progress?

Each day, throughout time?

As she pulled more and more insight

Through shining the light on her inside.

Through giving her thoughts and emotions

A place setting in her life.

Through exploring feelings

Versus pushing them down, deep inside.

Through giving space

To her insides throughout.

Would this newfound understanding

Bring up fear?

Emotions?

Felt anxiety and pain?

Or would it facilitate a sense of empowerment?

Would she feel determined to understand herself further in this way?

Would she begin to ponder

If those internal banters and sweats

Were messages to which she should listen

To understand the parts of her

In which she had left?

When inside her veins would pulsate,

Would she now be relieved?

For perhaps they will uncover

Pieces of her

Which she had chosen to leave?