The faucet screams. My arms, lead weights. Each muscle a frayed rope.
No, I can do this. I just need to reach.
Lifting a hand feels like pushing against concrete. A monumental, impossible task.
Just a little higher. The water’s running, a waste.
The soap pump stands there, a smooth, white sentinel, mocking my paralysis.
My fingers, gnarled roots, twitch. Refusing to obey.
Come on. It’s right there. Why won’t they listen?
A sound rips from my throat—a profound, devastating despair.
No, don’t shatter. Not here. Not now.
This body, a battlefield where exhaustion always wins.
But I’m still fighting. I’m still trying.
Every breath, a shallow gasp in the dust of what I once was.
I remember breathing easy. I remember life before this.
The mirror shows not my reflection, but the ghost of a smile, a memory of ease.
I can find that smile again. I just have to.
The exhaustion is a deep well, bottomless, reflecting only a hollow sky.
Yet, somewhere, a star still gleams. A tiny, defiant spark.
With grit and grace, Brandi Lynn ♡
The Beauty of a Switchblade will always be a free space to read and rest. If these words found a home in you, you can hold the physical weight of my journey in your hands. My debut collection of prose-poetry and original illustrations, Where the Broken Light Falls, is now available on Amazon.
Hold the Light — Order the Book Here
I am Brandi Lynn. Welcome to a beautifully chaotic space for the outliers, the pattern-seekers, and the sensory-overloaded. We aren’t here to watch the healing; we’re here to watch the clockwork fail. If this resonates with you, I’d love to have you stay.
Find the visual unmasking on Instagram @bybrandilynn, or on my website at ByBrandiLynn.com
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