Words, Words, Words

Imbue so much emotion, yet carry so little weight.

My life has been built upon microchasms.

People… myself included, dig up conclusions from the way we perform ourselves to the world.
But who actually does the digging?

People like me.

I hope only to understand a fraction of the lived experience you’ve endured.
But it is not my responsibility to hold your hand,
to walk you through the shape of pain I’ve carried for two decades.

Who ever said this was a comparison?

We draw conclusions, connect dots, grasp at straws that carry no real weight.
Isn’t that what all of us do—trying, clumsily, to understand one another?

We are social beings.
Yet I find it difficult to show up as my authentic self.

Why?

Because of what people have consciously—or subconsciously—told me.

Or shown me.

Sometimes in words. Sometimes in micro-actions.

I noticed quickly.

So I learned quicker.
Did better.
Worked harder.

And now we’re here.

What now?

Time is ticking.