Late at night I find myself sitting in the dark. The house is silent. Still.
In the quiet I am lost.
In the noise of the day I can keep going. Ignore the feelings. Busy myself with the hustle of life.
But come the twilight hour there are no distractions. Nothing to keep me from.my thoughts.
For months I’ve told myself it’s all OK now. That I’m fine now. That there is nothing wrong.
Yet. Somehow I find myself back where I began.
Scared. Anxious. Fearful.
Knowing I’ve messed up. Hurt the ones who love me. Pushed people away so much there is nothing I can do to make it better.
No words that I can say to undo what I’ve done.
I’m stumbling, blindly, trying to figure my way through this. Trying to see which way is up. Trying to believe there will be an after.
Because somehow, no matter what I do..I end up here. Alone. Having pushed people away. Everything has changed, and yet nothing has.
I can see a future, just out of arms reach. I can feel it, yearn for it. Yet I can’t grasp it. Can’t believe that it could be mine.
For all I blame others, it is me. Me who is at fault. Me who fucks it all up. Me who makes others walk away.
Guilt. Stress. Sadness. If I could turn back the hands of time, I would. I’d reach out rather than push away. I’d listen to friends advice, rather than believe I know better.
All my life, I’ve never been someone’s number one. Never been someone’s best friend. Never been important enough to be a priority. Until this year, and then I didn’t know what to do, so I did what I know and pushed them away.
Too late. Nothing I can do but grieve for what I’ve always wanted, had and lost.