Why am I always so afraid and angry? How can the two exist with such intensity in one place?
Maybe subconsciously I know I will mess up everything.
Others have done this, and now I need to add my words?
If I could get them out right anyway… there’s always a better way to say it.
I just get in my own way.
Who am I anyway?
Why should my words carry any weight?
What does it feel like to be supported, to not have to beg for the bitter dregs?
The very thing that broke me — that still haunts and provokes me — gave me the power to walk away.
Image by No-longer-here from Pixabay
notthestateofmyhouse 