Let Me F*cking Cry

by Rhiannon Janae

Your hands feel like the home I have always been looking for. Why do you feel like home, yet you have no roof? Why do you feel safe, yet your hands are full of harm? Why am I always chasing after someone who was never here to begin with?

The funny thing is, we are all so scared of abandonment, yet we abandon ourselves so easily.

I have carried you so far that my hands are bruised and my legs ache. In the hopes that if I carry us far enough, you will no longer need my legs to stand.

If those walls could have talked, they would have said, “You are too young to be this damaged from a man who can’t even get a grip on himself.” “You are too smart to think the love you deserve is in the hands of a man who can’t even hold himself together long enough to stand on his own two feet.” “You are too good to let some guy who doesn’t even love himself make you feel so unloved.” If those walls could have talked, would I have listened?

I do not understand this path or why I must walk it. I see others smile, and it makes me angry at the realization that the world keeps on turning, yet here I am, still barely moving. Isn’t it such a cruel thing, how the world can change in a split second yet, we cannot even pause for a moment?

We were both raised by mothers who only knew how to put themselves first. Mothers who only cared about the outside and not about all the pain they were causing us on the inside. -mommy issues

I want to ask why I have such a burden to bear when all I asked for was love.

I shouldn’t even say that I wish I was someone else, because I don’t even know who I am to begin with.

I saw my mother in his eyes. The same sadness and silence trapped their voices. I thought maybe this time if I loved him enough, I could save them both. But my mother had been gone and the problem was not the lack of my love that took them both. It was the lack of love they had for themselves. That was the silent killer.

My twenties were mainly meant for everyone other than myself.