remembering.

I feel like a child wanting to be cradled in a mothers arms. Whose arms can take me now, at this size? I feel absent and stoned. I can’t spend this much time alone. I said hi the mailman today, that was the most human interaction I’ve had. I wonder whether I’m weaker than others, but that isn’t fair, nor true. It seems those around me get so much more done, despite similar struggles. Self-pity is ugly. I’ll be entering the school year in a strange state. How much are we affected by others thoughts, others states of being? How much are we connected in ways we don’t know? How much does your sad heart weight on others? Through brain waves and heart beats, how much does grief travel to those we love? I’ve been forgetting what it is to live. To share. I’m becoming afraid of being heard so I don’t write as much. I need to stand boldly, proudly, I need to shout and sing and be fearless in living. 

About Moon Eggs

A woman who remembers enjoying writing.
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