Burden of silence

Therapy was a mess last night. It was absolutely shit from literally the moment I walked in until I left. I hate myself. I’m frustrated and I feel like crap.

I was wrong to think she cared. I was wrong to have hope. Usually I know better than to be this stupid. To allow myself even the idea of letting people in…it always ends the same, doesn’t it?

There’s no blame on anyone except for me. There never is. I’m the only constant.

I was actually feeling nervous, but hopeful for today, too. So stupid. I know better than that. I literally know so much better than to expect anything less than to be a complete fuck up.

There’s so much I’ve been forced to keep to myself for the past few weeks, and it’s been brutal. Writing, but holding back in drafts. Writing on paper to make it easier, but for no one to ever see. Even though I wanted them to.

So much left unsaid in a space filled with such silent heaviness.

The room felt impossible to break. I felt trapped and I knew her response to everything I could have said. There was nothing I could say that I didn’t already know her answer to. “Change the thought, challenge it”… etc etc etc.

In a room where I needed and wanted to say a million and 1 things, I fell subject to the burden of silence.

The burden of silence is mine to carry. It’s my senseless cross to bear in a world that has no meaning.

In a world where I contribute so little, who am I to keep taking up the space? To keep causing pain, and taking up the space that others deserve?

These burdens are mine and mine alone. Every time I think there’s someone on my side…every time I let myself believe that hope is possible for me, that I’m maybe not quite so alone in this…?

Well, I’m quickly reminded that it was an illusion. There is no such happy ending in the story my words are writing.

So maybe it’s best just not write them.

So much to say, and I really thought it would be okay. Maybe even good.

Loneliness lives in secrets. Isolation demands it.
Frustration that ends in bloody knuckles.

The burden of silence.
Last night, I didn’t think it would be mine to carry.
But it was.
And I should have known better.

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