I have so many words.

So many thoughts.

So many hurts.

So many joys.

I am always the shiny happy.

I build walls.

It drives my husband nuts when I fight against breaking them down.

But they are built.

Because I cannot bear what is happening some days.

I am scared by my own inability to handle it.

Because it is happening.

Some days faster than others.

And it is happening again, although I am a distant witness of my own making.

Because I built walls.

And I am fine.

Most days.

Every day.

I handle things because it is what I do.

I support.

I live.

I cajole.

I laugh.

I rarely ever cry.

I am the best listener.

I am the peace maker.

The peace keeper.

The introvert.

The black sheep.

When the walls fall I fear I will break.

But some days.

Some days the bulldozer knocks them down.

And I am unexpectedly shattered.

And I weep.

And I pick myself up.

And I rebuild the walls.

Because I know nothing else.

But to go on.