I’m sorry for the times when I bare my soul to you
And leave it there, exposed
And you don’t know what to do with it
And now you feel responsible
And I can understand you get scared
Because you don’t want to break it.
Perhaps your fear blinds you to the cracks it already has
Or makes them even more apparent,
So you are afraid of making them deeper.
And I’m sorry if this makes you defensive
As though it is something I am casting upon you
I’ve inflicted you with its sight
Instead of sharing with you.
It was meant to be a moment of
“Look at what I found”
“Look at this thing for which I am giving you sole responsibility for making okay.”
My fears aren’t yours to fix,
But they are a talking point
Breaking down my anxiety into
That we can tackle in tandem
Through conscious conversations
Instead of leaving me to trial and error in terror, alone.
When I say that I miss being resilient,
Because anxiety didn’t used to taunt me,
It is because what I really fear is being
So worn down that I give up.
Admitting that doesn’t mean I’ve thrown in the towel.
Admitting that means I still have some fight left.
Admitting that to you means I want you on my team.
Admitting that doesn’t mean you have to battle for me.
Admitting that just means I trust you to hear me.
[Edit: I recorded a video of this poem. View it here.]