Paracosm

internalizing

The hypothetical conversations dance around in my head like in the ballroom. Dancing with such intensity, my face moves to the rhythm of the words. Always bold, never shy. Always assertive, never weak. Always displaying my needs and my wants so perfectly like a choreographed number. In my head, they'll stay, dancing the endless night away. Try as I might, I can't quite coordinate the thought to voice transaction. The strain on my vocals, the self-imposed tape over my lips—It's still there more often than not.  Will I ever get to say all that I need to say? We spend timeless hours together that I wouldn't trade for the world—yet we both know it's not working. Why isn't it working? Maybe it's just me who isn't saying what's needed. Maybe it's my turn to initiate the honesty moment. I love you, and I'm sorry, I can't. It's the strain on my vocals and the tape around my mouth, you see. I'm screaming, I'm crying, I'm trying, you see. I'm trying to do what I know will help me grow. I just can't. It's too much. It's easier to let it stay locked in this cage I call my mind. The once shiny handle is rusted now. I'm too weak to pry it open after all these years. I want so badly to open the cage for you to explore as deep as you wish, I'd hold your hand and light the way, so you don't get lost. I'm too scared. Of what I'm not sure. I want to push past the fear, saying, "I don't care. Let's have the talk and grow from here!!" Oh God, but im scared. I want to be everything you need. I want to be at least half of what you need. Maybe a quarter will do? I know. There's no reason to blame myself. I know, forgive myself. I know, there's still time. I know, don't be so hard on myself. I can't help any of it. I adore you so much, I just want to help pick up all your pieces and be your glue. Maybe I'm in over my head again. I wish I could heal both you and me. I'm so sorry.

                          𓇢𓆸