I hate being so afraid to be vulnerable. I do. Because I distance myself from people so much, that when I need to breakdown and just lean on somebody other than myself, I can't. Because people don't know how to react. Or they don't give a shit because I've distanced myself and am of little consequence to their lives. Whatever it is, it's shitty and it's my fault. Truly, this is my doing. And it fucking sucks. I just want to cry. But crying in my room and just letting it out by myself is not what I need. I need someone to care. Right now, I'm sick of being there for others, I want someone to be who I am for others, for me. And I hate it when everyone is flipping their lids because then I feel like I HAVE to be strong and suck it up because too much sadness and "drama" is just that, too much. So I have to settle for putting on my well-worn bitch face and suck it up, and comfort others in their time of need, while on the inside I'm screaming and falling apart at the seams. But that's just life I suppose. It sucks, but it is what it is.
"I TELL you, hopeless grief is passionless;
That only men incredulous of despair,
Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air
Beat upward to God's throne in loud access
Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness
In souls as countries lieth silent-bare
Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare
Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express
Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death—
Most like a monumental statue set
In everlasting watch and moveless woe
Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.
Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet:
If it could weep, it could arise and go."
-Thank you AP Lit Exam. I still love this poem, and it seems particularly relevant right now.
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