The act of 'not-being'

Its exhausting. Not being something. I'm so tired of it, not being a good mother, not being a good student, not being ... something. Not being heard. Not being good at anything I do. Just.. in a perpetual state of not being. And the not being is more exhausting than the alternative, because when you are yourself, its easy, and renewing.

I'm just so exhausted by this state of not being. I can feel the numbness spreading.

The pain of life

Pretend that it doesn't matter how much I care. Pretend that it can all be brushed aside. Is it heartlessness? I don't know. All I know is that I do care. That doesn't change because its belittled or shrugged aside. I care. The conclusion is that it doesn't matter whether its reciprocated or not. It doesn't change that one little fact. In this moment, that is the truth. What is past has no bearing on it, and what is future cannot change it. You say run, like its the easiest thing to do. How can I run when my feet are made of lead. Planted firmly, steadfastly in this place. Wherever it is. Whatever it is. Exploring this new and different situation. Part of me feels it should be frightening, uncertainty awaits. I trust that I will be kept safe though, or that the pain on this journey is just a part of the experience. Its an experience I'm willing to endure for the joy it brings as well as the pain that must surely occur. Loss is inevitable. I am aware of that. I accept it.