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They say silence is golden.
I’m always finding myself in between a rock and a hard place though.
The deafening cry of everything I’ve done wrong flooding my thoughts.
A weight so heavy, it’s pulling me deeper than six feet below.
They say be who you are.
I’m always striving to do that, but what if who we are is battling with who we should be.
The tossing and turning and fighting to no avail
The bruises are so deep it’s left me with a wounded heart, unapproachable by all.
They say strive for greatness.
But what if our greatness involves speaking out amongst deaf ears.
I write because no one listens.
For the words can pierce the eyes and flood the soul, but the voice can only ripple in the wind.
They say it’ll be ok in the end.
But the end signifies the conclusion of something.
Why mustn’t we turn our endings into beginnings of something new.
A newness of when we finally understand that “I am enough”
I am, but I’m also not.
I am, but I dread.
I am, but I fear.
I am, because that golden silence continues to taunt me and point out all my inequities.
Inequities that ultimately stain my heart and make me feel unworthy of love.
I will, but I can’t.
I will, but until then I am.
I am worthy, despite feeling unworthy.
I am who I am, but I’m also lost.
I’ll keep falling, and eventually something has to catch me