Cindy L. Rodriguez

Cindy L. Rodriguez

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What is death? It is the glass of life broken into a thousand pieces, where the soul disperses like perfume from a flask, into the silence of the eternal night.
They take one look at me and think they know me, like it’s that easy. But they have no idea. I guess we’re all clueless...
Across the top of the page, she wrote, “Words can wound,” surrounded by tiny daggers dripping with blood. Beneath this, she sketched a house with the word “possibility” across the front door. A girl stood inside, looking out a window covered with prison bars. On the back, Elizabeth wrote: “dwell—to inhabit, have as your home. To dwell in possibility: to live in possibility. I think the quote is meant to be optimistic. Make possibilities your home; live out the possibilities. “But, the quote can be pessimistic, too. To dwell on something means to never get past it. If you dwell in possibility, you might not accomplish much. Like the guy who has million-dollar ideas but stays poor his whole life. Possibilities are great, but you have to take action. If you get too comfortable in your home of possibilities, then your dwelling becomes a prison before you realize it. Your home becomes a jail that sucks the life out of you.”
She told herself again and again, Everything’s going to be fine , hoping if she said this often enough, she would soon believe it.
I have vehicles that help me navigate the world, but I don’t think I’m figuring anything out. I try, but lately I feel like I’m driving in circles. I ask questions, I think, I write in my journal, but I always end up with more questions. Round and round I go .
I want you to focus on this year and not dwell in the past. The reality is, Elizabeth, you can’t go back and change what happened. What you can change is yourself, how you do things, how you feel, how you see and respond to the world. But you have to want things to change. And you have to care more than the people around you.
I read Dickinson’s poem “The Soul has Bandaged moments –” and it made me think. A bandage covers a wound and helps it to heal, but it also masks the hurt. And if the broken part of you is bound too long or too tightly, doesn’t it make everything worse? At some point, don’t you have to rip off the bandage, expose the wound, and deal with the pain? So whether you’re injured or healing, it hurts . I guess numb isn’t so bad, then, because I don’t want to hurt anymore. I don’t want to hurt anyone else, either. I hope you understand now that I cared and tried to fight the monster inside me, but it won.
I didn’t make it easy, I know. I never made things easy. Like Emily Dickinson, I hid myself away from the world. I was there, but I wasn’t—not really. Does that make sense? I wanted people to notice me, the real me, but I didn’t let anyone see me .
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Cindy L. Rodriguez

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