The shackled anger I am accustomed to... reflecting on myself...
With every tear there are a thousand more that need to follow so I may climb from the darkness...
The need to do this... It is almost instinctually protective....
A mechanism shielding out the real me in my mind... And
I don't think I even know who the real me is anymore.
I sense a stranger filling this silent room with anguish... a silence that rattles against the windows leaving me so cold and numb...
And somehow...
This feeling I do not understand is my best friend and enemy all wrapped up in one.
I want to free myself... and find security in my tears. How can I touch my innerself and know of the existence...
When this painful essence has beaten me down?...
Intimidated by any change...
In a brief moment there might be too much vulnerability and I'll be left wide open to really hurt...
All these things hanging over me, weighing me down...
What will it take to make the darkness not so dark?