Who?

My aura grips me tightly. Not because I'm trapped, but because I want to hide behind the nebulous gray cocoon of it. I allow it to shield me from hurt. I love looking at the world through the cloudiness. Sometimes sunlight peeks through and enflames spears of pain and angst through my body. I tell myself I want to be enlightened, find some purpose and grow; but that would mean letting the light in and clearing out the cobwebs. I would rather sit in the dark and hide. I prefer being an emotional zombie; I don't want to remember the loss. I don't feel sorry for myself because I don't feel. The incurable romantic of my childhood is safely tucked away like an old book. I cannot open myself up for fear of my pages disintegrating, crumbling like an autumnal leaf under my foot.