child o' mine
I'm stressed.


There, I admitted it.

I'm not level-headed, clear-minded or in control. I am not a mature, independent person, nor am I able to handle all obstacles that come my way. I am as vulnerable as the person beside me, I am as helpless and as unstable as the rootless tree. I merely hold on to strength that does not exist, and I live my life with a facade of normalcy, even when inside I can hear them shattering. I feel like the word "crash". Within the expanse of the process, being slowly broken. Bit by bit, like flesh.

And I am definitely not able to do this on my own.

(I miss the friend I used to depend on when the storm hits. I miss how we used to be, before our own pride and arrogance divided us.)

Perhaps confessing all these would help ease the burden, but I have little faith that it will. But nevertheless I need to. Perhaps more than I can explain.