I do what I’m supposed to.
I do what I’m told.
I wake up, dress-up and show up.
I stay present while I can, and I pray/meditate/write when I can’t.
What I am not able to do is share it. I want to. I want to let it out, I want to heal it.
For the first time in a decade, I am hyperventilating while sobbing in the shower, or while walking down the street screaming at the moon. I can’t catch my breath anymore.
I can’t form the words to calmly express myself right now. I have them in my mind, but I can’t open my mouth without choking on the shear magnitude of pain and emotion.
Sure, I can regurgitate what I hear and what I know I am supposed to say. But I can’t let the words scratching at the back of my throat, trying to find a way out of the depths, escape through my lips.
None of it matters anyway. No matter how I feel, no matter what I want or don’t want.
What I say, what I do, can’t fix one more god damn broken thing around here.
It all plays second fiddle to the main attraction.