Wednesday, September 14, 2016

"I suffer, but cannot remain silent."

Draper's Mourning for Icarus 

Part of me is embarrassed by how I've felt in the past two months. Every insecurity I have has come to the surface. My greatest fear is that I'll drive people away with them. They are my imperfections that usually have caused relationships to end. Though, truth be told, the people who couldn't accept that I'm not perfect aren't the sort of people I should have been around anyway.

Part of me is reminded of what Samuel Beckett once wrote, "I suffer, but cannot remain silent."

Another part of me wishes I'd just kept my mouth shut, and stayed calm. Like I should have known better by this stage in life.

It wasn't just my mother's death, but everything else that has followed it. The uncertainty has caused me to shift from my usual, rational self, to being somewhat irrational. I don't want people to see that side of me, ever. Sometimes I can't help it. I think I've experienced so much judgement in the past over my faults and neuroses, that I'm afraid to express them; for fear of alienating people.

Right now I'm shifting between wanting to stay the course, and put my life back together, or continue to feel despair, and believe that all is lost.

What I need now is proof, not just faith. But faith (NOT religious faith) is all that I have since so much is uncertain.

...And I cannot remain silent

Text copyright Riley Joyce 2016 

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