Letter

I wrote you a letter last night, in the cold while I floated in the chair, there was everything. How I felt, how I truely felt. I've lied to everyone, even myself. I do everything to convince myself that you are not good for me, not what I want, not what I need. I find other people and try to attach myself to them, it never works, I always come back. I try not to think about you, I really do. It doesnt work. I wanted to give you this letter, so many things that would be hard to take in, I suppose that is why I did not give it to you, I am afraid, I have always been afraid of failing, of loosing, of not being good enough, I've been so afraid that I couldnt see past my own nose, I could not see my chance, and I feel like its lost, like there is no chance anymore.

I.... I hope there is.

Rain

How can you stand the yelling? The screaming? We take each drop as it falls. We take it in stride as the cold missels sting our skin. Each drop does not seem to touch us, until we are soaked, then it weighs on us and we just want to stop. Each ridicule, each attack, each accusation doesnt seem to hurt until we are soaked from all of it. We just want to come back in from the rain. We want to get inside and warm ourselves by the fire. Sometimes we want a break from the pain that scratches our skin until it scrapes it raw and we begin to bleed.

Inspired by a friend.