smoke & glass
Clawing my way back to the surface; I am boring through my own rib cage, my own sternum, from the outside in as quickly as my knuckles can fly in order to break through this tissue and stand tall. This is the sort of moment - this collective six days, seven days - that absolutely shakes my foundation. I breathe; my heart quivers. Tears brim. Eye lids swell and blink and even hours later, still feel brandished with emotion. This is hard. I am afraid. I am afraid to be weak near you, afraid that you so desperately need my strength that my infallibility is not an option. I am afraid to ask you to hold me while I cry.
This must take temporary pause, while I flounder through the rest of my day and attempt some normality. I will return - I always do. Until then, watch my feet through the fog. Those, at least, are visible.
This must take temporary pause, while I flounder through the rest of my day and attempt some normality. I will return - I always do. Until then, watch my feet through the fog. Those, at least, are visible.