I Just Have A Lot Of Feelings

Things were going so well with us. We felt comfortable with each other, and were closer than ever. But then things took a turn, and perhaps it wasn’t for the worst.

There are a handful of people that I trust, and even then I don't tell them everything. I've always thought that keeping everything in, all bottled up, was the best solution. Now I see that it's not what I should do, but I don't know what to do about it. I can't seek help because I'd be an inconvenience. Being shot down the few times I reached out made me scared of talking about my feelings. I feel like an idiot when I pour everything out just for someone to read it and not care. So now I'm trying to cope on my own, and it's not going very well.

The only reason I am so closed off  is that no one ever knocks at my door. On the rare occasion, when someone does stop by, I am not prepared and don't know how to react. I keep the majority of my problems packed away, in fear that I will scare off my listener. In the end, nothing for me has changed because I have forgotten how to open up. I close the door behind them as they exit and return to life as if they hadn't come at all.

I lack energy even though I haven't done anything. I can't bring myself to get out of my cocoon in bed, for it’s the only place I feel completely comfortable. When I do get up, the flesh under my eyes feel heavy. So I just lay back down and pile on the blankets. At least the warmth makes me feel something else.

“I'm here for you,” I say to them after listening to all their problems. They shower me with love and gratitude. They tell me that I'm a good friend. This fuels the smile on my face and motivates me to help them again. I am the tree that they lounge under, the rock that they rest upon. I am the one they depend on when they need to regain their energy. “I'm here for you,” I say to them. But who will be here for me?

There's a hole inside of me that I can't quite seem to fill. I constantly try to block it up, but it continues to remain empty. It devours everything I shove in there. Books, shows, movies: gone in an instant. Music enters the void and resonates but that too disappears in the darkness. Laughter moves in but doesn't stay long, as it turns into memories too soon. I wonder if I'll be able to plug it up someday. Maybe something will come by and decide settle. Surely it isn't destined to remain vacant.