𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

The grass isnt so green.

There's been so many times where I wanted to write but I pushed those feelings aside because I knew my own words and expressing of my depressing would make me cry.

Some things are hard for others to hear, but to know of my own sorrows and fears makes me hurt from every single shed tear.. from everything that I tried to express that's fallen onto deaf ears.

Why do I punish my heart?

At this point I can't even say anyone has done it any damage, if I tear it anymore the post office may not even accept it as a package due to the many stamp warning of fragile.

Learning to deal with myself, while healing me all the way down to my darkest depths and walking on broken steps, still climbing and dreaming of what's next with little to no rest.

Still I can say I am truly blessed.

Through the storm, and over the highest mountain, I can still pour out love like a fountain and hold the hand of happy ends and sing a song only the bird and the bees understand, as they stare and mock me for trying to carry on with this crazed story and make my life something other than a forgotten dream.

The owl in the tree staring down at me, wondering who I think I am, and who I'm trying to be as I furiously type on this screen, expressing myself, as my stomach turns and my mind burns a stinging sensation, paining my brain as I mentally stress myself.

The eagle in the sky, soaring ever so greatly, as I look up in envy, wishing I could be that free.

Sometimes I can't sit and think because my thoughts hurt me. Sometimes i busy myself to keep from feeling... sometimes I get so busy that my body feels heavy and it only adds on to the weight of my pained mentality.

If it was up to me, completely up to me with no one else's opinion in need.. I would be a tree.. something grown from the smallest of seeds, standing firm in my place, growing from my source of vitamin D, I'd be a tree so tall and grand, my leaves fall and crumble in a curious child's hand, I'd be a source, a force.. something more.

If it was up to me.. I'd be a bee. The ability to nourish something ever so sweet.. and the power to sting and strike whatever tries to attack me.. taking my own life in the midst of my fight I'd have the power to be my own army.

With no one else's opinion in need.. i would simply just not be. Something like the air, there but not there, not able to grasp it or hold unless it's in a breath, all these chemical test and poisoned plants, threatening me, fuel emissions and cigarette smoking killing me slowly... but I'd still have the ability to be everything you need. Though Id get no credit because you can't see me. Something for somebody that goes dang near unnoticed that thing that they all take advantage of. The thing that keeps you living while you only continue to risk my being...

So... like the air I'll bandage myself up because it's like I gave myself these wounds, that you push out of your view. And like a bee, after pollinating the pretty parts of you, and picking the petals of your heart with do you love me's and do you nots, I'll lay there lifeless and drained from the assault you'd done to my brain. And like that grand tree, once you're done using me for money, and raking up my leaves, I guess you'll sweep me away too, eventually cutting me down completely and burning me, still holding your hand out to take in all my heat from the lines of the rind at the stump of my being, reading my story and feeling my fury as you then bury, me and all my feelings in the same place I used to be.

I know it's probably not realistic for you to need me like the air that we both breathe and that I don't play as big a role as the bees do in our everyday living and of course I'll never be a tree, it's just that my flesh is burning for somebody to understand me.

In what context do I have to put myself for you to try and assist me in my emotional needs.

Is it that hard to be there for someone like me? I know I can be clingy and I understand that your busy, but if you just picked up the first time I reached out then your phone wouldn't continuously be ringing, if you'd let me know ahead of time then my mind wouldn't resort to overthinking... can you at least reason with me?

There's been plenty of times where I wanted to write... but I pushed the pen and paper to the side because I didn't want to face the feelings I was trying to hide. Thinking, it's better to live in this unfulfilling lie than to set my heart free and simply just speak about what was bothering me.

Sometimes it feels like my heart goes missing and I have to search for my ability to keep feeling before it's back in its initial place of hurting.

What do I have to be for you to see me? Need me, and appreciate me' is something I find myself repeating, standing there, not being able to believe that this was the reason my hearts been bleeding... the glass in front of me reflecting the tears that just couldn't help but to keep falling.

This whole time,
i've been talking to me.

- Donna