Oh Darling you don't know.
I look at you, at your scars, at your pain and at how you broke. How you couldn't stand and how it was just too much for you. How much life was too much.
I understand and it's okay. I see you.
But Oh Darling you have no idea.
I will not break like you did. Out of pride, out of spite, out of fury. I refuse. I look at the lethargy that plagues you and I know. I shall not break.
You sigh and shake your head. You think I am naive.
I think we don't play in the same league.
You think I don't understand the risk.
I think you misjudged me.
Oh Darling you couldn't even begin to comprehend.
I know the pain. It is inbedded in my bones, in all the small injuries that I dismiss. I know the tiredness and the exhaustion. I know how it feels to drown, how it feels when your heart is so compressed, when each beat hurts.
Oh Darling I know all that.
And you know what. I. Shall. Not. Break.
Ask me if I'm afraid of the dark.
Ask me if I am afraid of failure.
And then watch me walk at night. Watch me throw myself in the adventure.
I have a fire inside. An all devouring furnace.
And it will not be put out.
We had that talk at a restaurant and I looked at their faces. The dark circles under their eyes, the slight shame they can't erase no matter how much they need to.
I sat there, listening and I felt sorry for them. For how hard they tried to look tough. Why does everyone try to look stronge? I watched them explain to each other how hard it had been. The depression, the anxiety, the nervous break down, the burn out.
And I sat silently, reading with half my brain a book I had grabbed on the table before leaving. Not even mine. I understand the need for sharing, for feeling less lonely.
And His friend was so sure that I was the next one on the chopping block. I just bearly avoided telling her that it does not do well to judge everyone by one's own standard. No, it's not because you broke that I shall break too. I like her. I do. But there is a difference between us.
One that cannot be ignored. I am passionate.
I have a thirst for glory and fame and success. I have a craving for greatness.
I refuse to break.
I sat there, listening and I felt sorry for them. For how hard they tried to look tough. Why does everyone try to look stronge? I watched them explain to each other how hard it had been. The depression, the anxiety, the nervous break down, the burn out.
And I sat silently, reading with half my brain a book I had grabbed on the table before leaving. Not even mine. I understand the need for sharing, for feeling less lonely.
And His friend was so sure that I was the next one on the chopping block. I just bearly avoided telling her that it does not do well to judge everyone by one's own standard. No, it's not because you broke that I shall break too. I like her. I do. But there is a difference between us.
One that cannot be ignored. I am passionate.
I have a thirst for glory and fame and success. I have a craving for greatness.
I refuse to break.
