I can’t find the words out loud.
I’m broken inside.
I should be running around, screaming from the rooftops, dancing in the streets, happy. I should be blogging something completely different today. I should be the most excited person on the planet right now.
But I can’t, and YOU took that away from me.
I’m so angry at you. I’m so broken.
I spent the weekend pretending like everything was okay. Like you aren’t pulling away from me, from him, from what’s to come. Smiling, laughing, sitting next to you pretending nothing has changed. But it has, and I’m so completely broken inside.
I wish you would figure it out. I wish you could see what so many other people see, that you’re afraid. You’re afraid to let me in, you’re afraid of growing up. You’re so afraid that you will fail that you let it get in the way. Of everything.
I’m not perfect, but I’ve grown so much. I’m not unafraid, but I try not to let my fear cloud my judgement or get in the way. I’m not the easiest person to live with, but I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s broken.
I can’t make you stay. I don’t want you to go. So I wait, in silence. And it’s KILLING me. I cry where you can’t see me. I lie and tell everyone I’m okay. I stay strong because I HAVE to. I have other people to think about now, little people.
I should be ecstatic. I should be crying tears of joy. Instead I weep for something that I’m afraid is so lost it can’t be found.
And I’m broken.