Exhausted.
Exhausted by the weight of the world that I’ve chosen to shoulder.
Everything I do must be good enough for someone, must be
pleasing or right or noble or sensible.
Look at me, Mama! Look
at me, Daddy! Ain’t I doing good?
Even when there is no one around, I feel the eyes of invisible
faces watching my every move, analyzing and criticizing.
I just want to do it right for once.
My heart beats fast in the fear that clutches me when I ponder
the ways I’ve been missing the mark.
The cycle is endless, this story of performance. Performing
even when the blinding lights shut off, the lilting music fades, and the scrutiny
is over.
I stare at the cursor on the broad white screen.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
It daunts me and dares me to type out something that will wow
the crowd, chaining me to the keyboard with the motivation of making a
sensation, not emptying my heart.
Or is my heart already empty?
No. My heart is churning with story. It is churning with
magic and wonder and love.
My heart has something to say.
And it will say it, even if only within itself. Even if it
is only to be stored in a folder within a folder within another folder and is
never revealed to another soul.
Finally, I will let my heart speak.
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ReplyDelete<3
ReplyDeleteLove this!
ReplyDeleteI love this so much!! <3
ReplyDeleteThis...this is kind of exactly what I needed to hear today. Thank you, Hannah. <3 <3 <3
ReplyDeleteYou put my soul into words!
ReplyDeleteWow wow wow. <3 You filled my heart.
ReplyDelete