Holeheart

Suitcase

December 12th, 2021

Nothing describes what I feel. No one has been in my shoes. Nobody carries the baggage I do. And I'd give anything to take a seat and have a rest, set my weight down onto something else. But if someone else takes it? If someone mistakes my luggage for theirs? If someone sees what's inside the suitcase? It'd be the end of the world. I want nothing more than for others to be happy, and to make them happy. But when the cost becomes greater than the prize, what do I do? I risk everything, always, every single time. And I know what happens. I don't want others to feel the weight on my shoulders, it's unfair to everyone. And if it's too unbearable to be around me, take her with you, if that's what will make you happy. Because that's important to you, right? As it should be. But it's not about me and it never has been. It's not about what I feel. It's not about how I was hurt. It's not about what I want. It's not about how I choose to forgive. It's about me choosing wrong in someone's eyes. It's what I do to others. I have learned to talk and talk and talk and still no one hears my side. No one hears my side. They just hear it's not what will make them satisfied.

I am setting my baggage down and taking a rest. When I get up to leave I will forget to take it with me. I won't tell you where I've gone and I won't tell you where I've left it. I think everything ends up better if I stop trying to fix things. I'm tired of chasing something that isn't for me. I'm so tired.

R.K.