Of Consequence

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

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