Dealing with Others

The thoughts of his suicide tumble through my mind till they are smooth and shiny, cool to the touch. When they leave my lips or fingers they have been made presentable, but sometimes I want to just throw them down in their raw unaltered form. Then you would see how rough and ugly they are when I'm feeling them. How the sharp edges of emotion leave bleeding wounds on my soul.

Then you would see how broken I am.

I'm not sure who I'm protecting anymore. You from having to share my pain... or myself from the inevitable moment you turn away because my pain is more than you can bear.

Leaving me alone again with a pain much too large for two people to bear, much less one.