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.
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