a small part

a small part 

I’ve been struggling to write lately. 
It’s sort of a telltale sign for me 
that I’m not doing as well as I’m letting on. 
In terms of thick skin, I’ve never had it – 
it’s paper-thin at best and has been my entire life. 
And now, if it’s possible, it feels even more fragile these days. 
Because in addition to wearing my own, 
I’m wearing the skin of my kids as well. 
It’s agonizing.
My heart aches constantly. 
I feel all the things, 
all the time, 
and deeply. 
And I’m exhausted and I don’t want to sit with it anymore. 
But unfortunately or fortunately,
that’s not how I’m built.
So sometimes I hold my breath 
while simultaneously hyperventilating. 
Sometimes I tell myself everything’s going to be ok, 
while also doubting if it ever will. 
And sometimes I force myself to write, 
without thinking too much about it, 
without knowing what direction it will go in. 
And a small part of me starts to feel lighter – 
as the weight of it all leaves my body 
and is expelled onto the page – 
a small part starts to see it all more clearly
as it’s written here in black and white, 
and a small part starts to exist outside of it all
as I slowly begin to feel better – 
a small part.