Can you see me? I mean can you really see me? Yes, I may appear to be calm and collected in every moment, but I must warn you that I am getting closer and closer to the edge. The glass that was once always half full is starting to seem half empty in my tired eyes. The calm persona that I put on display for him and for her is secretly the calm before the storm.
I have run out of Band-Aids for the gaping wound that is inside of me, and now my soul is at risk of infection. They tell me that I seem fine, but they can only see what I am willing to show them. My list of contacts has been torn to shreads, rendering me completely alone and wondering where all of my once dear friends have gone. I am like a lost child in a super market, I just want to scream and cry for help. I want to tell you how I am actually feeling, but how can I do that when you need me as your stronghold?
They say that the squeaky wheel gets the grease, but what if it doesn't want or even truly need the the grease? What if all the wheel needs is to stop having to share it's grease with every other wheel on the train that are all constantly squeaking for help. Now that wheel is faced with the decision of becoming selfish for its own well being. It does not want to do this. But if that wheel completely breaks down and stops spinning altogether, what was the point of any of it?
© 2021 Nicholas Mercogliano