So I know it's late but I need to vent. Sometimes getting held to higher standards kills me. It's like I'm on this pedestal and I can't breathe
I'm my mom's baby boy and my dad's therapist
I'm our friends' secret keeper
a sponge that soaks up all the stuff no one wants to remember
I'm summer and I'm winter in the thick of December
the ember in the fire and I'm burning low like I'm the fuel for peoples' furnace
and maybe I just imagine it
maybe I make it up in my head
but it feels real to me
Half of me wants to be the one people confide in and trust
but half of me wants to disappear
to just leave and join a crabbing ship
somewhere out at sea
so I can prove to myself that people will live on
that with me gone they will end up ok
maybe it sounds like I'm full of myself
or that I put too much weight on me as an anchor
but that's what I feel like
an anchor cast out into the ocean to keep everyone from drifting, safe on their ship while I
sit at the bottom
with a mouth full of sand and cold salt water seeping into my skin
Even anchors
need a break
a reprieve from their duty.
Even anchors need to surface
for a taste of
fresh
air