I sit on the edge of my bed, the edge of a cliff. Seeking the swallowing warmth to drown out the feelings of loneliness and despair.
But my thoughts escape me, they leap straight off that cliff into the abyss of self doubt and dark questions. The questions of who will love me. The questions of chaos and confusion. Confusion.
I can't get the words out of my mouth, can't decide when to talk and when to keep quiet, when to pray and when to try, when to stand up for myself and when to sit down, when to stop asking why.
Why does it always hurt so much, and so regularly? Every day I leap, intending to beat the demons and, by G-d, it hurts.
No recognition. No one sees the thoughts of terror written behind my eyes. My manly poker face of confidence positive that if whatever was in my head came out.... that it would be the end.
The confirmation of all that I fear. The confirmation that I'm a reject.
They give me shoulders to lean on so they can fill their egos with stories of their kindness, just so they can pull it away when it gets uncomfortable.
So you know what I do? I pretend to be brave. I pretend to move forwards. I pretend to understand. I pull courage out of the grave where it died long ago.
And here I am again, wondering what you think. If you think. If you understand. If you care. But all I care about, are those last two.
But do I really? Will I finally find someone who cares, just to question their love too? Who knows... Cause I certainly don't.