Raw Emotions

A (welcome) Transition in Topic

And sometimes I'm walking somewhere, at any time, and I start to feel heavy. Like walking down stairs but staying on the same level of altitude, like suddenly wearing heavy boots when you're walking barefoot. It's a feeling that I've grown accustomed too. The sudden thought, always the same sort of ones, and then the loneliness. The anger. The sadness. The numbness.
You're suddenly carrying this weight that wasn't so bad before and everyone asks you what's wrong. And you only feel worse for the looks on their faces, as though their expressions could carve the word "upsetting" on your forehead.
I will take a deep breath, often one so deep that people are concerned for their future, and I will let it go. I will tell myself all the times I've been irrational, and being upset will only upset them more, don't upset them again you've put them through enough.
The silence will intoxicate me, make me forget what I'm saying half way through, make me remember I am an empty notebook among fictional works of art.
I am composed of pages left empty, etches of words once formed with pencil but soon rubbed out.
Wording my feelings can only make me feel worse, because now you have to deal with this.
Do not worry about me, I am fine. This happens all the time, it's just the middle of the night and something doesn't feel right.
Like my skin is crawling, clinging to my frame like a wet suit, I need to get it off of me. Fingers hesitating at my hair line like it holds the secrets to hundreds of opportunities. Like a child waiting at Christmas presents, hands at the ready, fingers hooked into the first loose edge.
I will move my hands away, sit on them, distract my mind.
When I go quiet know that it is my best attempt of containing what I am saying inside my head.
It's not your fault.
If it was I would tell you, I would notify you, I would alert you even if you think I wouldn't.
It is the middle of the night, I have no time for such petty lies,
It is not your fault.
There are times when I am having a bad day and I crawl into my bed like it's an escape hatch to the world, my private place away from petrifying problems that soak their way into my skin.
I hide my head under the covers like a child, hold my breath like I'm playing a game of hide and seek with my emotions.
I will grow warm, too warm. With this warmth comes a fleeting memory, a whips of another time where I felt worth the skin I inhabit.
The warmth reminds me of many memories.
Hugs, loving truths, late nights on the floor, hesitating hands, hiding in the crook of someone's elbow, promises left unspoken but heard within the silence.
The fear dissipates enough for me to stop hiding, the cold air holding my face and reminding me of where I am and who I am.
The questions come back.
I keep them away with reason and the knowledge I gather from conversations left lying on the floors with our bodies, close but not touching out of fear, out of worry, out of respect?
The panic comes back and I remember long talks and drives and sideways glances and smiles that could light up the universe. Once again the worry and the questions float out like water on a beach, leaving waterlogged sand that will dry out in the suns warmth.
I am a romantic lover, give me something you hate about yourself and I will make it poetic. Like the constellation patterns along your arms, the knowledge that nothing will ever be disorganised and this will really help in the zombie apocalypse, the caution in your movements that could one day save your life, your night vision blue eyes, the perfect companion in a black out.
You are my perfect companion in a black out. For there is no one better at calming the bags of nerves I am than you. You remind me that eating isn't a bad thing, that beautiful people laugh loudly and have eating competitions and compliment the small things.
I say that I love you probably too much for your comfort zone and for that I am sorry but I am terrified that I will lose my black out companion. My bunny on a bad day, my reminder that breathing is safe and every sentence doesn't have to stay with the words "I'm sorry."
My meteorite girl who stares at the ground, at least you will not trip.
And if you are wondering what the hell im doing up at this ungodly hour:
Sleep seemed like such a boring task when I have you to think about.

(I am looking after myself I promise)