I've found that I expend much more energy
pretending I don't long for certain things.
Like the way I used to pull words from my chest. I'd imagine the words dropping like petals off some flower in me, the "loves me, loves me not" in my mind. In the end it's never been about whether I am loved or not, it's the anticipation of the answer that matters. It's where my love grows. I could even make love out of the disillusionment when the answer was "not."
It has been much more draining not being able to express the things that hurt, the things I miss, and the things I yearn for, and I'm not even sure how I came to be this quiet.
But I hope this is the first step in finding the words.
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