All of the things that I want to say just aren't coming out rightI'm tripping on wordsYou've got my head spinningI don't know where to go from here-"Me and You" (Lifehouse)I feel like a star.
Not a celebrity but the actual thing. These past weeks, I have faded and burnt out. I'm no longer there but people can still see me because I'm a hundred light-years away.
The problems have just been piling up but I say nothing. There are those who know that I'm going through a tough time but they don't know exactly what. This is my own fault. In my bid to salvage some semblance of pride, I've internalized most of my problems. I choose to reveal only what's enough to satisfy those who worry that I'm alright. It's easy to let the words fall from my mouth: these false words of assurance that yes, I am taking care of myself; yes, I am eating; yes, I am sleeping more, etc. I do not wish or want to become an emotional burden on others, especially, knowing that they, too, have their own problems.
And over time, it got easier to smile in artifice - practice makes perfect as they say. I hide behind a mask with a smile etched on it. It makes the world easier to deal with; if you were to ask me why I'm punishing myself as such, I cannot answer you. I cannot explain how a piece of me died and I don't know how to fix it. The superficial assurances offered to me, the concerned looks, the "are you ok?" questions: at the end of the day, mean nothing. A river of words can never replace a single, silent act. It's what you do that matters, not what you say.
This troubles me. In the past, I had someone to depend on for such reassurances; knowing that even if we never talk about it, you'd know just what to do to make me whole again. This time, it's my turn to return the favor, and it's a small thing to ask for the many times you've helped me through my darkest moments. The coward in me dares not pick up the phone and extend the comfort that I know you need.
Only once have you ever broken down in front of me before. One moment where you showed me that I was the one you turned to first, in your time of need. To say that I was touched, is an understatement. I know you never show your emotions openly and any sign of weakness is intolerable by you. For you to break down and cry to me, I knew I was someone who you truly trusted. Too much time has gone by and every day that goes by, it makes it harder and harder for us to speak.
What if the status quo has changed? And I no longer hold that place in your heart that I used to? Will my calling make things worse or better? If I open the door to my heart again, do I stand to hurt myself all over again, or make things even harder for me? These are the questions that relentlessly swirl around my mind in the deep of the night. They hover at the edge of my mind, taunting me the whole day: whispering words of cruelty that make me feel bad that my cowardice and need for self-protection has made me into such a selfish person.
I internalize all of these because I am leery of being a burden to any of my friends. But there comes a point where the internalization process becomes too much to bear; still, I force myself to hold it in.
