To say I have been silent is incorrect.
I speak.
Often.
Loudly.
Just not about me anymore.
Not about the real me at least.
I once had words for everything.
As all else seemed to trickle through my fingers on this river of life I still had words.
My sole companion.
The truest version of me I could find.
I dug deep into the darkness to find it.
Yet somehow when the darkness came again I cowered and backed myself against the cold wet cement wall.
Running my hands along the floor I felt only the sharp edge of loss again.
Like a million stakes beneath my feet.
Brushing my face off with soot I embraced the feeling of abyss surrounding me.
I have been sitting in that corner for about a year now.
Not moving too quickly as I was taught time and time again that with movement I jolt out of sheer pain.
Bottled up.
No where to go.
No one to listen.
No safe place to release.
It is mine.
Mine alone.
*POP*
I no longer wish to remain silent.
I will not allow the pain of life to break me.
I am not weak, that is one thing I do know.
I am more than I ever wanted to be honestly and even that is minimal to most.
How can one spend years rebuilding only to wince and back away from the light they have prayed for?
Why does it hurt?
All of it.
I think that’s the truth to life.
It fucking hurts.
With blips of moments filled with sun, giggles, and your favorite late night snack.
It hurts though.
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