Today

I have a lot of stuff I want to write about, but if I write about them, I will write in detail. I am scared you will read and you will know it is me. I am scared that it will frighten you away. I want to tell you about the times when I am crying on the drive home. I want to tell you about how I hate that you're sick. I want to tell you how much you mean to me. I want to tell you what you and your sister have shared. I want to let you know when I am hurting. I can't right now though. You need to be free of stress. I know this. I want to be patient for you. But I want to share things with you as well.

Suppressing these thoughts makes me hate myself. I feel as if I have too much to say and that I'm obnoxious for thinking these things. I feel useless because I crave your affection even when you cannot give it to me. I hate that you're sick. I'm so insecure because I jade what you can't do with what I think you don't want to do. I don't have anyone to comfortably talk to about this.

No one will listen to me. They are busy with their own lives and they've been tired of me for years.

I hate that I'm writing to you, EP. I would much rather be speaking directly with someone.
empathicresonance empathicresonance
22-25, F
Jul 28, 2010