Perhaps it’s good that you aren’t home. That you aren’t here to witness my unraveling, my pitiful ramblings on our bedroom floor.
I am tired of carrying these feelings. I am tired of looking into your eyes and wanting you to carry them for me. For someone to carry them for me. Anyone.
But I know no one’s listening. I wonder if the universe thinks I am this strong all the time or if it is waiting for me to give up.
I won’t. Just in case you were wondering.
If I could, maybe this would be easy.
I am trying to heal, but I can’t stop calling this void “my trauma”. I am scared that soon it will become my identity. Soon it won’t be something that happened to me, but something that I am.
I just can’t live like that.
That’s not who I am.
And yet, when I look at you, I badly, deeply, want you to carry this pain for a moment. Just for one moment. To truly feel what it means to be me. For just one moment, I want to look into your eyes and see myself - all the rage, bruises, and storms that make up my soul.
Is that cruel? I know it is. You don’t deserve this.
How are you so perfect, and I…I am full of scars? Wasn’t I worthy of this gift of innocence? Why do you have everyone, and I am alone? Why do you get to say you don’t want to carry your burden, but I didn’t? Did God love me less, or you more?
Is anyone listening? I know no one is.
If you read it this far, please consider subscribing. As a new writer, your support is everything to me :)
Connect with me on Instagram: @storieswithpratiksha
My goodness! how did i forget to express how i felt after reading this piece and about the theme you chose to bring up through the same. Loved it, big Sista! such a good start to many more ahead.❤️
That was fab di❤️