I never noticed how often I said those words, until I was saying them and I didn’t mean them. Then it became a consistent reminder that I’m not. The closest person I would talk to, I’ve walled out because I can’t depend on them beyond a few minute text conversation. And that’s not wholly their fault. They have a life, and their life was turned upside down. Most of us can’t manage our pain, disappointment, failure, and still help someone else. Especially if we feel like we’ve let that person down or are constantly hurting them.
Even while I am understanding, emotionally I couldn’t care less. I keep saying I’ll return when I get these results but I know that’s just another lie I keep telling myself. Most likely. I’ll hate the test results, and it’ll be more emotionally compounded constipation. Because it’s gotten so bad I can’t manage to release anything even when I’m alone. Give me a sad movie. A sad clip. I’m bawling like someone died. Otherwise. I’m stuck. I tell myself to let it out. But the disgust has developed a fine taste for the word no.
It’s been waiting for the last two years to have this chance again. And I looked it right in the eyes and gave it full reign. I knew I could control it. I know rage. I’m cool with rage. But. I’ve been out of practice. And with the rage I feel, that’s dangerous. I’m cracking around the edges. I’m leaking everywhere.
Wanderer 