Maybe it’s the rain, releasing all of my trapped emotions.
The pitter-patter on my bedroom window has always served as a relieving sense of inspiration for my fingertips. It always seems to release some of my darkest kept feelings in the back of my mind that I beg myself never to let out. But here I am, pleading my mind to open the door to how I really feel, instead of playing into this reality of dealing with a seemingly unremovable demon, that I really could change if I could just bare the temporary consequences. But it’s always for someone else. I continue to live through emotional strain to save someone else from hearing the painful truth. I’m not sure if that makes me a bad person for leading people on, or a good one for carrying the load off of someone else’s shoulders.
I suppose I can’t live like this forever. Eventually I will be forced to tell the truth to the people I am deceiving, or I will forever be damned in this unforgiving reality.
It just terrifies me to think that telling the truth could have such a tragic effect on someone. I have seen it before: as I begin to lift the shades holding back my true feelings, the life of the person I was telling it too began to derail and I quickly did my best to minimize the damage and put the train back onto its broken tracks.
I think I began to believe it. Either the part of me that was restraining my mask gave up or I forced this truth onto myself so harshly that I absorbed it and made it my own. Sometimes I truly do feel happy, but there are occasional reminders that seem to bring me back home to where I know this is false. I miss the way things used to be. I was once innocent, happy, and content with my own life. I guess you could still am, but there’s just this constant gray cloud looming over my shoulder that occasionally makes room for the sun, but frequently produces storms. The worst part is that the smallest things can trigger a hurricane that can sweep through my day and wipe me clean of all of my emotions and energy. I never know the storms coming until it’s too late, so there’s no way to look for shelter.
I wonder if the words I am speaking now are even the truth. I have lied to myself so much in the past two years, that I can’t even tell if the emotions I am feeling in the safety of my own mind are real. Am I truly releasing my true emotions right now, or is this just the result of my latest fake pursual?