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.


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