Sometimes I say too much, and my hands tremble and my mind wanders, and I lose my place in the words I stored for you, and sometimes, it's not enough.


Sometimes I hide my fear in the spaces between my smiles and frowns hoping the rage doesn't come today, because sometimes, I wear my fear on my sleeve.


Sometimes I scream for answers, begging for the aching to subside but then I lose my footing, and accept that sometimes, the questions are enough.


Sometimes you make me smile, and for a moment, just for a moment, everything makes sense, though  sometimes, I just don't know.


Sometimes I hope you love me and all my baggage that still hasn't been lost, no matter how many times I've taken flight and sometimes, I hope it doesn't show.


Sometimes I wring my damp thoughts onto paper and watch the lines bleed into the neutral space as though that's where they belong,  sometimes I swallow them before they find their way out.


Sometimes I scream inside my head, because apparently, screaming out-loud makes people uncomfortable and afraid that you'll ask them for help. And sometimes, most times, I wish you would hear me.