When it comes to the people I care about, I can be quite
the hypocrite. I’ll give you the hours during which I should be
sleeping without hesitation. My eyelids saturated with fatigue,
I’ll gladly watch the seconds tick away knowing that somehow
this is helping you. But when it comes to me, I don’t want you
to worry. You don’t need to help me climb out of the rubble I
call my life. I’ll make it out somehow. Until I do, I’ll put
a smile on my face for you. I’ll make sure it’s high quality,
made from whatever amount of strength I could muster before
stepping outside that morning. If I’m lucky, you won’t
question the bags under my eyes or the way I seem to space out
when my thoughts become too loud. If I’m lucky, my sadness will
stay just that, mine. I know your arms are open, but sometimes I
don’t want to trouble you with this body. Sometimes I just
don’t want to be a burden.
