There’s no describing what it’s like, what this feels.
It’s always unnerving for me when I can’t seem to put into words what I feel inside. It gets bottled up within and I find myself unable to contain it, but there’s no way to articulate it, so I just wait… wait until I break, until the walls cave in, until the emotions spill over and find some form of meaning – perhaps through a written piece of work or maybe through the unspoken message of a good, heartfelt cry.
No one seems to understand and even as I write this, I am afraid to post it, afraid of being chastised (again) for being too melancholic, too emotional.
How can you tell a melancholic to stop being emotional? It’s like asking me to stop being me.
I can’t explain it. All I know is I’m broken, so broken inside, and I’m putting up a happy front, but I’m breaking apart at the seams. And my resolve is weakening daily. And I’m trying to hold on… trying with all the fight that’s left in me. Perhaps I should stop trying. I should yield, but even surrender and abandon has ceased to hold meaning.
I can’t expect you to understand, because I don’t understand. He understands. That’s what a “picture” on my Tumblr dashboard said this morning: