Sometimes it is too raw this loneliness. The exhaustion of having to carry it all myself.
Sometimes it is too much. When all I want is to crawl in your lap and envelope ourselves with silence but you exist only in a future memory.
Sometimes it is too real.
So real I can’t talk because the effort to convey to try to make you understand is too far from me. I need all my energy to keep the tears inside. I keep it all in because it’s too much to place my burden with well meaning friends.
Sometimes I have to substitute. With food, with drink, even with this pen.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be the strong one while wishing I could have the strength to say – enough!
Sometimes I question if my purest self is too much. Too much thought, too many questions. I forget the lessons I have learned and doubt everything about me.
Sometimes my perception is on overload. And I wish I didn’t understsnd the depth of the pain she carries, he types and they video.
But only somtimes.