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Standstill by Simphiwe Mabaso



She has evolved as they say. She’s grown in character, in physical stature but why does it feel like the more she’s trying to unravel and discover herself the more she seems to be moving away from what she used to be. The less she seems to understand what’s going on inside of her. The less it feels like home.

She is uncomfortable on her own. As if her own thoughts control her and she no longer has agency of them. They hound and beckon at her that she doesn’t belong in this crowd, that the fact that she thought she was home among people was a lie. It was all just too loud. Not loud because of the increase on volume, but loud because of the intensity of silence. The sound of silence is much too violent as it hits her tympanic membranes.

She can not bear it no more because she no longer knows who she is at her core. People walk in and out of her life like all it was meant to be was simply a revolving door. And now, she is at a point where all that’s left to do is to pick up the pieces of herself off the floor. She fights for who she used to be but she knows that reverting is unbecoming of her journey to elevation.

But she lies in limbo between heading towards elevation and wanting to go back to the being that she once was. She desperately craves elevation but she knows it’s necessary to be isolated. And that’s why she’s at a standstill now somewhere on corner self discovery and going back to her old self. To feel what was normal to her then. However, what happened then happened then, she can only look forward to what lies ahead of her.

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