The numbness has begun to fade
And now I descend into panic
As every single ******* thing
I've been through and never told
Every single thing I never
Had the chance to cry about
Every single ******* thing
I've held in since I was six
Is bursting at my seams,
And no amount of stitches
Can keep it from leaking out

I am beaten down, worn out, utterly emotionally and mentally exhausted
And a giant weight sits on my shoulders that I carry around all the time
A choice I have to make. Do I break what's already broken, or leave it to break others

Love isn't real,
and I'm not trying to
be poetic
and compare it to
the "love" I
supposedly felt for
you.
Love is made up,
an idea.
There is no
fully
loving someone.
I am saying this
to remind myself.
Love is not real.
It's not poetic.
It's not sad.
It's not real.
You must understand
to love,
right?
You must know
to love,
right?
Understanding
and
knowing someone
fully
is not possible.
Love is not real.
Just a reminder.

This conversation will determine the outcome of not only my life,
But of my sisters, and mainly my mothers as well,
And I don't know how comfortable I am in saying what needs to be said
But sister, mother, I'd say it in a heartbeat for you

I'm tired of silently suffering and struggling

I thought love meant
       Butterflies in your stomach
       Your heart skipping heartbeats
       Or a faster rate for that matter
       Being mesmerized by your significant other
       Watching movies together      
       Late night conversations
       Stealing kisses every now and then
       Staring at them and get caught looking
       Cuddling and holding each other's hands
       Enjoying the moment even when the future is scary

But love came out to be different from all of that
      
Love is letting all of those go
       When I thought it meant everything to him
       When all of it meant nothing at all
       When I thought I was his everything or even "something"

But no
       I am nothing
       What we had was nothing
       What I thought we felt
       Turns out to be what I felt
       I
       No "We"
       No "Us"

None

What do I do?*
I know what would happen
If I told you the truth
And boy I do hate lying

I could see it in your eyes
The pain you felt for me

“Listen honey, I don’t think
you’ll be able to support yourself
with this art stuff.”

“I’m just not sure
how much money you’ll make
if you start your own business.”

"Are you really sure
you’ll be able to provide
on a teacher’s salary?”

“Is that really what
you want to be doing
for the rest of your life?”

Why does everyone want
to be financially wealthy
but emotionally bankrupt?