I can write about anything.
But not this.
There aren't enough words on the planet
Too much paralytics in my veins
Where do I even begin to explain?
I have about 10 drafts
One line in common
"something is wrong with me"
And that's as far as I get.
Every. Single. Time.
I know that feeling. Where it feels like there’s just something OFF inside yourself, like there’s something fundamentally flawed. I understand it, but it’s not true. There’s nothing “wrong” with you. You might be “different”, but I promise there’s nothing wrong with you❤️‍🩹
I like this. The conversational tone, raw innocence on a page? It actually feels like I were in your chambers, an ear for you to vent to, your diary to express disdain, an experience you need for clarities gain.
Some things you don’t want to sympathise with, but empathise. To say “I feel you, I’m sorry for you, poor, poor you,” yet empathy escapes me.
Nay, alas it’s sympathy corrupting my brain. Not an apology, no, but an “I know, and it will be okay.”
I cannot say we have all been through it, no, most are lucky enough to escape samsara, yet those still in the wheel like you and like I have but one blessing from things which feel greater.
The shared experience we all hate. The, “You’re not alone, you don’t need to fear.”
And through this time of worry and fear, you need not shed a tear. We’re here for you, so let your mind shriek a rescued cheer 💜
❤️‍🩹
