Need

I want it so bad.

 

I can’t—I can’t even put into words why, but it’s an ache, a hunger, a howl, a need.

I feel like I’m drowning, like I’m shattering and splintering under the groan of these tectonic plates, of these colliding hemispheres.

Of this need and of this fear.

 

I’m so scared of opening up, of baring myself and my stinging, naked soul. Of being turned away and having my family torn apart from me.

I can’t do that. I can’t handle it, I can’t survive. I can’t live without them. Without my parents. As only one of us, instead of four of us. I can’t lose them.

 

But I’m stifling. Drowning in the air, closed up in this little box and desperate for any gasp of air that wasn’t already my own breath. Smothered in myself.

And all I have to do is push off the lid.

But how would any of them look at me. How would they trust me? How would they not shut me out?

 

But why would they do those things to me? Why would they cut me off but—could it possibly still be the same?

 

But what do I really want?

 

A choice.

 

The freedom not to feel toxic.

 

The freedom to dream, without feeling like I’m defiling myself.

 

Freedom.

Freedom.

 

The freedom to feel like me.

Without apologizing to myself.

Or to God who made me.

 

I want to stand whole before God, not trying to hide this crippled limb behind my back.

 

Because maybe it’s just an arm,

But only a person with two arms would say that.