What would you say if you weren’t trying to be strong?

That I feel alone. That sorrow and pain and grief eat me up from the inside out. That not a day has passed by where I'm not reminded of that one in November. The day I was most alone, the one that would change how the rest of my life would go. The one where two pills were the decipher of a life that would get to stay or be forced to go. 

I would tell you that sometimes I don't think I have the strength to keep going. That it feels like I’m suffocating under sharp and prickly emotions. That this is a bed of thorns I cannot escape. 

Those thoughts and memories poke and remind me of the pain I’m desperately trying to numb. I’m surrounded by a barrier of sharp spikes, preventing anyone from getting too close. Though I crave the comfort of human connection, I am weary of anyone getting too close to my jagged edges. So I keep them at an arm's distance away hiding behind this armor of spikes, feeling both protected and imprisoned by my own emotions. That I wish someone could see through the disguise I put up and understand the pain that is hiding beneath. That every smile I force feels like a lie. That I’m tired of being ok and doing everything right when I am not. That I am scared of what the future holds and if I’ll ever feel whole again. 

I’m carrying a bag of bricks but I tell them its feathers.