And in these human moments, all I need is a touch, a kiss, a hug, to pull me out of it. But for God's sake, don't make me be the one to touch you, to kiss you, to hug you. Touch me. Kiss me. Hug me. Please, reach me.
I'm so broken, so empathetic. I carry the crosses that are mine, but I carry his and yours and hers too. I carry these crosses on the inside, so your burdens don't have to worry you. They're for no one to see and for me to hold because when I carry them alone I can prove to myself that I am strong.
But now and again my body fails me and my knees buckle beneath me and my arms become weary. I drop my crosses and yours and his and hers too and they scatter around for you to see and I panic so I laugh and then cry and then become so numb that I want to hide from myself.
And I can't explain this except that I want to weep and weep and weep and I figure that's okay because grandma says "Jesus wept" too. And so I do. But you don't understand that I need you to just touch me and kiss me and hug me. I lost my strength and I don't understand why anymore than you do.
All I know is that sometimes my heart breaks over things that have nothing to do with me. I try to hold these crosses but they seep out of the cracks and onto your lap and you stare at them like you've never seen a mess so fucking bad.
I know it's overwhelming to see so many emotions at once but I can't really help it after I choose to take the crosses on. And yes it seeps out and makes a huge mess, and no I don't know how to fix any of it. And no, it won't be fixed overnight.
But dammit if you just touch me, kiss me, and hug me, I might be alright.
