As tough as I like to pretend I am sometimes, in reality I’m soft soft soft and easily wounded. Little pin pricks form together to create a collectively painful pinch, and I must dig deep and rally to avoid sinking back into the depths.
Strength, they say, comes from within - but all too often mine must be rekindled by the flint of another. And in the cold dampness of the morning I often wait far too long for comfort. I’d like to say I have the power to warm from within, but at this point I don’t. I see absence and I see distance, I note it, I pocket it, I move on. But it still saddens me.
Even when surrounded by laughter my consciousness lifts and I am often unhappy with the resulting awareness. Those you depend upon let you down and those who you’ve never expected to come through, do. I’ve built my circle up around this reality, as a defensive against loneliness and in a vain attempt to ensure some form of love that I lack… perhaps folly - but I know no other way.
For I exist with the knowledge that others’ worlds will soak up all their light and I must be able to fend on with only echoes to guide me. I am a bright transient in others worlds, never having truly found a place in which I can root and grow. I envy those who have that safety and consistency - people they can depend on, love they can rely on. I hope someday I can find a home and a family that will have a place for me always, someday I’ll find a heart that allows me to tuck in and finally rest, someday someone will care enough to whisper kind words and gently stroke my hair until I trust enough to be truly safe.
Till then I keep quietly searching, and those who praise my light will never realize that it’s a mere defense against the creeping shadows of my darkness.