When everyone is used to running towards you, expecting you to fix their cracks and you try to seal it, feigning wit and refreshing humor, to somehow complete whatever it is that they lack.
You have this way of making things better after you, it’s hard to explain. The sponge so they say.
But who extracts the water from the sponge when it is full?
The glass is overflowing but they still continue to pour, fumbling for your lifeboat as they drown in the turbulent seas they ceaselessly create. You also give away your life jacket.
When you are gagged to even feel broken and muted so as not to be judged, the words bleed out of your mouth and drain you empty.
The silence is almost, always deafening, amplified by the sickening reflection you see when you stare at yourself in the mirror and find that there is no one around but you.
The world could seem like a complete nightmare sometimes.
I asked if you were okay and you laughed a little too loud, smiled a little to hard and held a little too tight when you said “I’m perfectly fine.”