She acts like she doesn't care what others think but hangs on every word, taking it deeply into her, and storing it away for another time or conversation.
She is someone who’s glass is never ½ full. Her angst has become ritual.
Her pain spills over into the outside.
She arrives to each and every conversation baggage in hand.
I have begun to notice that it’s as if the air gets sucked out of the room when she speaks, and her pain spills over into the outside.
To unburden her soul.
I have tried to carry her baggage, but the weight of my own fills my arms and leaves me with no space to fit anything else.
More times than most she speaks through text. Half complete sentences and phrases, requiring you to ask for clarification – drawing you farther into that room where the air had been sucked out earlier.
I am not sure we will be able to get back to where we were.
So much water fills the gulf now and as time passes the current gets stronger.
For now I will avoid swimming upstream and remain on the beach, soaking up the sun on the side lines. Time is on my side.