1/1/2025

There is always a point in the night when I’ve run out of…things

Nothing left to do

No one left to call

Just me and the glass of whiskey…

I like being alone…

I also hate it

It’s when the noise takes over

It’s also why I keep my distance from others

I wonder if I’d even like solitude if it weren’t for them

Or maybe it’d be the opposite

It’s all the same cycle

Rinse and repeat

But, some nights I don’t want to be alone with them…

I don’t have the words to explain what happens to me

I couldn’t tell you what I’m so sad about

Or even tell you with certainty that sadness is what I’m feeling

I haven’t figured out where the speaker is

The feedback loop increases the harder I look for it

I’m fine in this familiar space

I manage it alone

But sometimes…

I’d give anything to be held

But not just by anyone

You see, touch is important to me

Touch hurts more than it heals

Safety in it is rare…

I’d have to risk it all and trust someone to keep me safe

To hold me in their arms as I fall apart over something that no longer is

But cannot be explained to them

I hear my own contradictions…

I know I’m scary this way

It’s upsetting to others

And I wish I could explain it…

But I also wish someone wouldn’t look for it

For the answers or understanding in chaos they’ve never lived

I suppose this is an unreasonable ask…

I’m scared of the darkness in me consuming someone else

So, I stay away… to keep them safe-to keep myself safe

Yet, on nights like this, I dispute this claim…