The Quiet Impostor

There are yellow flowers growing outside of my window. Those bright, sun-worn blossoms have never caught my eye before. Yet there was something in the enchanting, almost inviting way they softly hit my window that pulled me out of my monotonous thoughts.

I have spent the day in someone else's skin, the whole time wondering who the strange creature is. I looked in the mirror to catch a glimpse of this impostor. It is the same face that has looked back at me for 24 years.

Tonight, her eyes are tired, lifeless, almost. The weight of her thoughts has pulled her brow into a hard line, and creases have started to form at the bridge of her nose. The heaviness of the thoughts seem to press its force against her entire body, causing a sharp pain in the neck and back. It's a defeated type of pain, as if the world has won the war today, leaving the host suddenly disjointed.

I continue to look into the girl's face. The impostor is me. The heavy thoughts are mine that I must face alone. They threaten to burden those close to me, but they cannot. I alone must wage the war of introspection.

This impostor's stay has left me without words. Without thoughts. A shell of a version of myself I claimed just a few hours ago.

But the impostor's stay is short lived.

These days are the defining ones. The days were we lay out our own cards in the game of life. We strategize, calculate and contemplate. We take our wins, cut our losses.

Days like today, when an impostor takes hold of your soul, you feel you are walking to someone else's step, that your calloused heart is beating to a different metronome, are enough to leave you stripped raw. The day where you face every fear, and have to do so alone because words cannot connect you with anyone else. The day when your soul is tired of fighting.

I'm grateful for these days. The impostor is the one who has introduced me to myself and shown me the hidden parts of my heart. Emmilie and I have met again. And tomorrow, Emmilie will be the conqueror.

For tonight, I will look at the yellow flowers from outside my window. That quiet, friendly creation is what has relinquished the impostor, and reminded my calloused heart of promises on the horizon.