𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥o𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐫a𝐯𝐞

Heavy Interruption

I don't mean to be so heavy.
I get that writing about sad things, a dead friend, and continuous disease filled journal entries may not be the best way to achieve that.

But I'm only trying to convey how these things felt, how these things were.
Sometimes things feel different a second or third time.

But heaviness is hard to bear no matter what.
I feel like most readers like the experience of it anyway.

It's why I read sarcastic, lonesome Dorothy Parker poems at 3 am when I'm sick of being awake.

Sometimes I think I'm too young to write things like these.

That I lack the wisdom and the patience and the ability.
But sometimes I'll look at a blank page and all I want is to make it not blank anymore.

Blank pages are heavier than anything.
They are both so sad and yet so inviting.

I lay my words onto them.
And even as every critique that could be made of them passes through my mind, it's the heaviness that relinquishes my fear of judgment.

It takes away any insecurity.
Because what if it is subject to being called 'good' or 'bad'?
The result is always the same.

The heaviness has left me.
and it lays on the page instead.