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.

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