I know I can be the poison in your veins, the smoke in your lungs. And all this time, I’ve been a heavy, closed box, sealed shut. A deep well, even the bucket wont reach to, that you’ve been dying to dip your toe in. You tried to be my anchor. You tried to ground me. Never realizing, it wasn’t ground I needed to be on. I’ve lived all my life, at the end of one rope or another. It’s the only way I know how to survive. I can’t hold on to happiness. I don’t know what to do with it. I have an understanding with my sadness. It lives within me, with an agreement to never let it go.
I’ve hid behind my fear, a coward in my own nature. Never realizing the courage wasn’t in the running, in letting go. It was just being. So please, appreciate the difficulty in this. Understand my lack of being. This is entirely foreign to me.
I’ve never asked anyone this, until now.
Stay here. Stay with me. Stay. Just fucking stay.