Sadly, it is the case that I have held on to love in all of the wrong ways. This is probably due to me never quite learning how to love healthily because no one before me taught me how. It is on these days that I wish she would just hug me and I wish she knew what truly went on inside my chest as I typed these words onto keys with the hopes of letting the floodgates open, letting them rise so that the water would pour through and stop building all of this pressure within me. I wish it were understood that I have limited control of these feelings welling up inside of me and pushing me outwards because I can no longer hold this inside. I guess we are all alone in our pain here and don’t quite know how to cross this chasm to hold on to one another anymore. It is regretful that your mother never knew what it meant to love that little girl now a mature woman that has faced the world and faces it daily with struggles and persistence, but I don’t think that I am nearly as strong as she who came before me for I tear apart at the seams too easily. It is not without repercussion to be near so much death and to wonder if my time will come too after all that is dealt with at present. It is difficult to sit in a dark room with a lump in your chest and this looming feeling of uncertainty, of the thousands of what ifs that I struggle to get to. I am a stream of light outside, but inside I am still very much full of night.
If I did not write, I would end.