I am tired.

I am tired.

I am tired of being polite. Of holding back. Of containing.
This constant containment is eating me alive.

I feel trapped. Ready to burst out of my skin.
My body is holding me hostage to this disease.
My polite sensibilities are holding me hostage to other people’s feelings.

I want to yell and shout and groan and gasp and curse.
But I won’t get permission for that.

Instead, I’ll get forced positivity. And judgment. And false solutions.
I’ll push them all away.

I can’t be real. I can’t be raw. I can’t be ACTUALLY HURTING.

I can politely explain the pain.
I can laugh off my intense discomfort.
I can minimize the agony.
I can play nice.

But to just be in it? Not in the presence of company.

No, that’s only appropriate by myself.

And even then? It’s empty echoes in a silent bedroom.
It’s suffocation by loneliness.

I am tired.

I want to know where is the place
Where I can just let it out
And be seen
And be heard
And be.

Even if I found it,
Would I know what to do there?
Have I gotten so good at keeping everyone else comfortable
That I don’t know how to let it out?
Have I been so programmed to appease them all
That I can’t remember how to get rowdy?

I am tired.

xo,