Here Are The Door Keys

I know we never wanted this. No one would have. Because it never evolves from ugly.

So first and foremost, I just want to rest.

I just want a break from choosing between giving up and fighting, to be away from the blaring sounds of blowing horns on a crossroad I can't seem to get out of, to get away from being asked to at least walk. Or run. Or get on. To escape the blinking of green and red lights for a minute. It's just starting to get so loud. So loud that covering my ears and eyes doesn't help anymore.

But I'm not helpless. Don't get me wrong. I'm just tired. I'm tired of trying to prove to you and to myself that I am not. That it's alright not to choose between being selfish and selfless because neither of them initiates peace.

I am just tired of believing. When all the things I believed in proved me wrong. I want to stop chasing hope for a while, to have a breather, and just sit comfortably at its absence.

I am also just having a hard time convincing myself that I'm still something to be fought for. I wanted to fix myself but I just don't know where to start. Actually, pinpointing the damages itself takes a huge portion of my energy. I am just so broken to the point that I think, "what's the point of gluing, painting, taping, a broken porcelain when you can just buy another one or throw it?"

Every mistake I make creates a resonating sound like a breaking shard of glass that could break me entirely for once. And then there's this hollowness. Everytime I ponder my dark thoughts, it echoes in every parts of my mind and my body which results into an amplified unintellegible sound. Some slip out through the cracks so people on the outside, like you, hear it and stare at me quizzically as if I needed to be understood. No. I don't need to be. It's just a really disturbing, incoherent sound. So now instead of being understood, I'm just left with more echoes and unanswered questions.

I'm tired of seeing you adjust so that I wouldn't think like I'm a failure, your attempts to understand me, though with pure intentions, give me guilt. I clearly see you behind the doors blaming yourselves, looking exactly like my sillhouette hiding underneath a familiar translucent blanket of shame. I know because I may be crying, but that doesn't mean my eyes are blurry all the time.

I'm tired of looking for words to explain to you what it feels like because it's so massive of a feeling to be enveloped in a sentence, even a paragraph, without looking pitiful. I don't want you to be involved inside my head because it's scary.

I want you to remember that you don't have to know everything. It's not your responsibility. It's mine.

It's undeniable that sometimes it gets hard. Really hard. But I will not give up. I am the hero, not you. You don't have to take all the arrows. But you can take some. What I really care about is you stay with me, cheer for me until the end, so that we can celebrate the wins together. We don't do it most of the time so I'll be taking this time to say that I'm sorry if I refuse to see that you were already holding my hand when I felt so alone.

There are also times that I don't want to fight. You may see me slamming the doors in front of you even right after unlocking it and letting you in. That means I just need to rest so please, do not panic. All I really need is to be on my own, crawl into a hole to hide for days. To find solitude. Get away. It's not your fault I never gave you the keys.

All I ask for you is to wait for me outside until I crawl back out and fight again. It may seem like I won't, and yes I often think I won't, but I definitely will come back out.

I definitely will come back out.