My Writing. My World.
“Sometimes when you are quiet, it feels loud to me,” my friend messaged.
That comment from a week or two ago has stuck with me.
Even though I still haven’t responded to the message.
Even in my ongoing silence.
A silence not meant to keep others out, but to protect what is left within.
To guard the little that remains.
Keeping myself safe because it no longer feels safe anywhere.
I am done.
Done with the not-enoughness.
Done with trying.
Done with the hurt.
Done with all the tears.
Done with the heart-searing pain.
There comes a point in life when the loss can seem just too unbearable.
A teenager who loses their group of best friends to the social wars of high school, a dear friend to suicide, and perhaps a bit of themselves while navigating the world at large…and then a fucking pandemic on top of it all.
Please stay.
I know I’ve been focused on my everyday heartbreak, but suddenly it doesn’t matter anymore.
You are all that matters.
You are all I want.
I want you in my life.
I need you in my life.
I couldn’t bear to lose you now.
My heart, skipping precious beats all day.
Tapping in, I hold her and try to decipher her code.
Is she feeling the delicious anticipation of something new?
The lingering sadness that comes with letting go of the old?
Something more dark than I am ready to face again? Still.
