There are so many words on the tip of my tongue,
burning, pushing, crying to get out.
I find some spill over the edge of my lips, but it is never enough. Never enough to satisfy the need of communication.
There is so much to be said, with so many things I wish to clarify.
There is an aching desire to spill my thoughts and have my feelings gazed upon.
Yet if I were given the opportunity to speak again, I would be at loss of what to relay.
For these words come in many forms.
What would I speak of? Where would I speak from?
The sharp edges of the broken pieces of my heart?
Or perhaps the softness of my lips as I remember yours?
It may be from the tenderness of my touch as I think of your skin against mine.
These words may also overflow from my eyes in the form of tears as I remember the betrayal of those I loved most.
How will I choose to speak my feelings, given the opportunity?
Just as a bag bursts at the seams when too full, so do my lips as they part and the words come tumbling out,
too many rumbling inside of me to ignore.
In a case like this, I would have one wish.
Not to speak eloquently.
Not profess my undying love.
Not to announce my pain.
My wish would be for you to understand the mess I am portraying.
My wish would be for my words to match my feelings and actions so that you may understand how I am feeling.
My wish would be for you to realize how I am living.
I’m going to tell you a Story of a Girl. A story about the time the girl reveled in her luck.
For years, she had been internally struggling with anxiety and the pressure of crowds. Agoraphobia. Panic attacks became a norm when feeling suffocated by the crowds or the vast emptiness of being alone.
Too difficult for others to comprehend, she hid this condition. She hid from her reality.
Once there was this girl, and by the age of 14, she had been through the most tragic moments of her life. She had felt her heart being ripped to pieces and shredded by those who claimed to love her most. She was broken and lonely, she had no place to call home. For she lived in a house, just a building of terror and deceit, not the comfort anyone would imagine to find in a home.
She had the worst nightmares, many of which become reality.
She was a sad and lost little girl.
She lost all her values and starting thinking and doing inexplainable things, to herself and others.
She lost it all: she lost her faith, she lost her family, and she could not remember her friends. She held onto one, though.
Someone who managed to save her.
She had a friend, such a dear person to her heart. A person whose beautiful and bubbly personality changed the way she viewed the world.
This friend reminded the girl of her religion. She reminded her of the tests of life. She reminded her there were yet reasons to smile.