My grandmother is a very strong woman.

She's the one with the booming voice in the house
And a hand that's as stiff as the rod.
She's the one who's the voice for justice
And always speaks up for the weaker like us.
She's the one who went to my elementary school
And made a huge fuss because I had "lost" my wallet three times.

My grandmother was the hero who found out
My wallet was stolen three times.

And she got all of them back.

My grandmother is also the shield who protected me from my grandfather
Who was an aggressive man who had an even louder booming voice.
My grandmother is the stand-between between me and my parents,
A secret getaway who's always there.
My grandmother is the kind of person that cares
Even though sometimes not in the way we see it.

My grandmother is the rock that secretly cries in the room
Even though she thinks no one hears her.
My grandmother is my grandmother.

And she's awesome.

Some nights I do not cry,
They are really rare.
But inside I'm praying,
You're not crying them for me.

I don't see how
Worrying can make you
Tired.

But it does.

It makes me exhausted, it makes me an insomniac,
It makes me think crazy, it makes me worry more than I already was.
It makes me think every one has something happening to them
Right now
At this very moment.

Something is
Wrong.

But I'm tired. I really am.
I need my sleep.
But my mind is fighting,
Telling me over and over and over again that
I need to check one last time
Whether someone is okay
Whether someone is alive
Whether someone is someone is...

**** it, there's the mental block.
It happens.
Usually.
I think.
I don't know.

But what I do know is that
It makes me unusual,
It makes me sick,
It makes me not normal.

It makes people stare,
It makes people scared,
It makes people laugh and laugh and laugh
While they call me names and mock me.

They tell me I'm crazy,
Mentally *******, a
"Psychopathic pill popper".

I know that I am.
And I'm trying to stop.
But it's hard.

And I'm tired.

Rainbows are just well-concealed illusions.
Always seen as happy, colourful... happy.
But don't you see, rainbows are really
All frowns. Made in rainwater and tears?
And soon, like all things they will fade,
Disappear like they never existed.

Just because someone doesn't reply in
An hour, or two, or three, or four,
Or half a day later...
Don't mean that something's happened, right?
Maybe something's just cropped up,
Maybe they decided to sleep early for once,
Maybe, maybe...
I don't know.

I just hope you're fine...