mowgli (the disorganized attachment style).

when you give something a name

you make it yours.

id rather not name anything i feel.

i realise now

it is not my fault 

that i reject the love i crave.

the fear creeps in

and settles like a sigh

comfortably numb.

i deal with my unpredictability

like i deal with all my father's gifts.

i kiss it and i keep it in my drawers.

i hope nobody sees it there.

it makes me unhappy when they do.

angry, even.

i leave before they do.

because if you hurt yourself

more than the world does.

it feels more familiar.

safer.

kinder.

although

i dont have enough love in me to give myself.

i have lived in jungles my whole life.

in jungles running from what they say i am.

hiding from someone i do not know yet.

-

bagheera nobody out there knows who i am. what if they think im a monster, for i have not grown in houses like them.

you must never be scared mowgli. you have made yourself more man than they could ever. go mowgli, see the world the men have built and tell us stories of the places you will be. besides, you can always follow the path back home.

remember mowgli, bagheera loved thee.

at the foot of the hill he cried long and loud.

good hunting on a new trail, master of the jungle. bagheera loved thee.

                                                                    gustavo dore' 1832-1883