Oh
It's that little gasp of breath you're forced to expel when something hits you, in the stomach, the heart, the brain, and you're not prepared for it.
That realization that you've been more open than you've meant to be, that you've released more out there into the ether than you were supposed to. Sometimes that oh hits me before the words even leave my mouth or my fingers, but it's a prescient oh and it can't stop the future.
It's almost a release, that oh. Breath, long held, pent up and stale. An exclamation of terror, mixed with jubilation. But mostly terror.
I learned a long time ago to dampen the feelings these ohs pulled with them through me as they left my mouth. They were too intense, the feelings too strong and destructive. But I refused to give up my ohs, my exclamations into the ether. I refused to hold my breath for the rest of my life, no matter how much easier it would have been. So instead of holding it in, I wrapped those feelings in cotton and let them go. It hurt less as they were pulled out of me, more like taffy stretching than glass breaking.
But every now and then... Oh. It hurts. It's thrilling, and unraveling, and top of the hill rollercoaster sickening scary. I hate it. I hate the power these ohs still have over me.
That realization that you've been more open than you've meant to be, that you've released more out there into the ether than you were supposed to. Sometimes that oh hits me before the words even leave my mouth or my fingers, but it's a prescient oh and it can't stop the future.
It's almost a release, that oh. Breath, long held, pent up and stale. An exclamation of terror, mixed with jubilation. But mostly terror.
I learned a long time ago to dampen the feelings these ohs pulled with them through me as they left my mouth. They were too intense, the feelings too strong and destructive. But I refused to give up my ohs, my exclamations into the ether. I refused to hold my breath for the rest of my life, no matter how much easier it would have been. So instead of holding it in, I wrapped those feelings in cotton and let them go. It hurt less as they were pulled out of me, more like taffy stretching than glass breaking.
But every now and then... Oh. It hurts. It's thrilling, and unraveling, and top of the hill rollercoaster sickening scary. I hate it. I hate the power these ohs still have over me.
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