When inspiration hits,
shut up and listen.

Because sometimes…
it doesn’t come soft.
It comes like a wave…
one you’ve been trying to outrun your whole life.

Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning.
Not in water…
but in a deep, dark ocean of my own emotions.
My own trauma.
It wraps around me like seaweed,
pulling me down,
freezing my heart…
or what’s left of it.

And maybe… maybe it’s my fault.

Maybe I’m too nice.
Too forgiving.
Too willing to give away the life raft
and smile while I sink.

I feel like Jack.
Trying to save Rose.
Only, I’m Rose too.
I need saving just as much.
But I never say it.

I never scream,
“Slide over. Make room for me too.”
I just silently shiver…
in pain,
in grief,
in exhaustion.

I die a little inside
while making sure everyone else survives.

That’s my toxic trait.
That’s what happens
when you grow up in a house where love came and went
depending on how high someone was that day.

I learned to depend on myself.
Mostly.

There were good moments.
My grandparents tried to give me light.
Even my mom, when she was sober,
offered little flickers of love.

But in a toxic home,
you learn toxic traits.

Mine?
I try and I try and I try…
until someone finally shows me who they really are.
And even then,
I sit with the pain and wonder:
Why did they hurt me?
Why wasn’t I enough?

But I’m done.

I’m done putting everyone first.
I’m done trying to save people who keep throwing themselves back into the ocean.
I’m done begging frozen-hearted people to warm up to me.

Sometimes, you gotta rip that door right out from under them…
and save your goddamn self.

Let those motherfuckers freeze.
Let karma handle the cleanup.

Because this time?
I choose me.

By: Krystina | #Wheelstrong

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