A writing.

I break my own heart, by allowing myself to hope. To believe in the goodness I want to exist within the core of each person I encounter.



I want you to be a good person, and because I want it to be true, I allow myself to be hurt. And I know, shame on me. For I should protect myself from you and your charm and your cruelty that hides beneath the surface. But I want to believe. I want so very much to believe.



I want to be a good, strong person. But sometimes my idea of what it means to be good can hurt people. Or hurt myself.



It's so painful.



I want to make sure I am always honest with you, about how I feel, who I am, and what I want. But sometimes honesty hurts, because it isn't what you want to hear. I understand that. But I don't want to be the liar that I could be. I don't want to lie the way I've been lied to. And I'm sorry that my truth isn't want you want to hear.



I hurt myself, in the process of trying to help others, because I want to heal the world in the way I have never been healed.



I know you think you're so badly off, that the world is out to get you, and that your life sucks so much. And I'm so sorry that you cannot see how blessed you are. Blessed in ways I have never been. I am so sorry that you are so lost in your desire to be pitied that you lose your chance to thrive in the joy of life. But I cannot keep draining myself to pick up your slack. Because I am so broken inside and you will never understand because you cannot live my life or experience my mind.



I give out all the light I have in my soul to brighten the paths of those I love, that I keep nothing for myself. And I am so exhausted, so lost in darkness and shadows.



I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, I wish you could feel the things you have done to me. I wish you could know the world the way I do. I wish you could feel the beat of my heart in your veins, I wish you could feel the thrum of my breath in your lungs. I wish you could feel the pulse of my life, my emotions, my loss and pain and sorrow down in the marrow of your bones. Because I know that if you could feel the depth of my life, the extent of my sorrow, and the keen edge of my loss then you wouldn't doubt my desire to be good. To be honest. To believe. Because if I do not fight for even ounce of sunlight in my life, I will be swallowed by my past.