I Need to Be Done

Because that’s not why I write

I need to be done being afraid to write what is in my head, in my soul, in the deepest trenches of my being where the darkest of dark could tell tales that you might not want to know.

I need to be done being careful of what I say and how I say it for fear that someone, just someone, might have some inkling that they think they might possibly know who I’m writing about,

But they don’t know.

No one knows, because I’m just a writer, and they should just worry about themselves and appreciate my writing for what it is - writing.

I’m not writing for the reader who’s trying to guess if I’m passively-aggressively pointing my finger at someone. No. I’m not writing for you.

I’m writing for the reader who is sitting alone in a crowd with echoes in their head that tell them the same things that mine do.

And when they read my words, the tears hang on the edge of their lids as they whisper, “This is me.” Yes, Luv. I am writing for you.

And it’s for you that I give everything I have, because I know how you ache and tremble inside. How you’ve been split wide open and wondered why. And you’ve held yourself together for oh, so long, but there is so much that you want to say.

You want to scream. You have a voice.

So until you feel you can speak for yourself, I will do my best to hear your cry along with mine and scream for you, because you are worth every bit of my energy and time and love. I write for you.