Rue

Sometimes it feels like I am breathing around a cactus. Each breathe pushes spikes deeper into my lungs. Inhale, the cactus pushes forward, climbing up,  digging in, embedding. Exhale, everything relaxes. My body is constantly flexing, always tense. I don't know if I can be wound any tighter until I am. I can almost feel my bones cracking as my muscles constrict around them. I feel like I can peel my skin back. The pain of removing layers from my already fractured body.

So I accommodate. I try to stay quiet. Keep to myself. Speak only when spoken to. Smile when approached. Then I are told I am mean. Standoffish. Fake. Rude. Then I engage others in conversation. Stick around others. Force myself to interact with people I are sure will hurt I when I know you can't take it. Now I am clingy. Needy. Overzealous. I spend so much time swinging between both sides of the pendulum, only to be knocked down.

So I take moments to yourself. Hide in corners, away from everyone. Weary of interacting with others. Afraid of adding more momentum to the swinging pendulum.

Then I realize I will never find peace. I will always say something off putting to others. I will want to peel my skin off with every negative word spoke to and about me. Logically, I know I can't hold anyone at bay. It is virtually impossible to keep the attacks out. So I hold everything in. The cracking bones, the desire to bust out of my skin, each impact from the pendulum swing. But I am growing tired. And I fear the day that I break down. That I stop stitching myself together, padding myself for impact. The day that I start letting myself feel the emotions I keep at bay are sure to have catastrophic repercussions. When I burst, break down. I may set the world aflame. I may break the ground around me.

For this reason, I pray that few people feel my wrath. Because I don't know what I would do.