I break down alone and I pick myself up all on my own. People are strange in the way they are desperate to show anything but how they feel. Are they just afraid? Afraid of rejection? Afraid of embarrassment? Afraid that if they show the smallest amount of weakness, their walls that they spent years building would crumble at the slightest prod?
just thinking about it recalls the bloodshed and all the tears that are a part of it as a whole now and pushing people away just so they could maintain one safe place, where the only person to judge them was the person that was trapped in there. They trapped themselves in there. Afraid that they will come crashing down and it won't feel like escaping. It will feel like exposure. It will look like emotion that cannot be hidden, etched across faces the shade of pain.
It will sound like leaving. it will sound like loneliness, a white noise ringing that makes your soul itch
a reminder that even you are turning away from yourself
Walking away
Giving up
That is why I don't do it.
I lock my doors and shut my windows and although my sheets are cold and the hours dubbed godforsaken aren't full of heartfelt conversation and soft laughter,
I hold fast to that one reason
The fear of giving everything and being left empty.
Pouring all of myself into something that had a hole in the bottom of it all along.
I come to the conclusion that Fear is the ultimate human control
-
I find it funny how I can be both the therapist and the one attending the therapy sessions when i write.
God knows it's refreshing to switch up the roles
