I want to cry, but I don’t.
Sometimes I’m afraid of releasing any emotion for fear that it will take over and I won’t be able to control it, or myself. Sometimes all I want is to let a few tears fall, but I know better. I know how easily a few tears can turn into a whole box of used tissues, a lost hour of time, and fresh cut marks or bruises that need hidden for the next few days.
Sometimes all I want is to express a little excitement or happiness, but I know how easily that can turn into heightened sensitivity that something will trigger me, and from way up there, it’s a long way down and often results in a much harder crash.
Sometimes all I want is to express love and open up to someone, but I know how easily that vulnerability can lead me right into pain.
God, why did you make me come with all of these functions and not the right equipment to handle them? Why would you make humans to love and be loved, but not make me well enough to be able to contribute to that? You might as well just made me allergic to oxygen.
I just want to be able to cry a little without having to be afraid.
I’m tired of being afraid.