This is my hiding place, don't look for me here.
This is where I hide the things no one else can see. It's almost full now, of loneliness, infinite never-ending sadness's, it's full of untouched grief and the words behind my eyes. I get up and place everything I can't face into the box in my wardrobe, and then I get dressed, practice my smile and I leave.
I leave it all there... which would be fine if I never had to see it again, but I face it every morning, and once that box is full I'll have no where else to hide it... and then the cracks will start.
People will see, and they'll ask, and they'll know, even if I don't say a word. They'll see that the smile on my face is cracked, that the corners waver... they'll know. And then there will be nothing left of me... No one wants to fix the cracks, they have their own problems, their own boxes brimming. Why should they deal with mine when they could be dealing with their own?
I'm just like everyone else. We're all the same.
If I just put one foot in front of the other. If I just stop spinning myself in circles. If I just make you see me, really see me. then this might all turn out o.k.
If I can make you to realise that you miss me, that you need me, that your world would be so much better with me in it, then I might be alright...
If you could just feel how lonely my heart is, feel how it shut down, feel how it doesn't know how to make things better.
If I could just get you to hear this cry for help...
Then maybe I'd make it.
But no-ones listening, no one believes a word I say, not even me. How can I convince anyone of anything if I don't even believe it myself.
I can do this. I'm strong, independent. I can go and buy some wood, a hammer, a nail... or 8.
I can make myself a bigger box. And a bigger smile.
Do you see me?
No comments:
Post a Comment