I cleaned house recently. Discarded a lot of useless memories and words better off forgotten. Since then, I’ve been scared to speak. I fear digression whenever the urge to write surfaces. I wrote for others who couldn’t hear me… but to no avail since they couldn’t see me either.
My cup is overflowing now.
When did silence become so expensive? I pay the price for damages accrued over years. The ignorance of others has rendered me useless when I need to just… be. Who I was and who I am are very different and either way I seem to following the same path to an implosion of nothingness. My thoughts, my emotions… have become a black hole… determined to feed on victims.
I am trying. I’m here… see me… hear me…