Shot to Pieces

I've been running too much. Too far. Too fast.

To where? And why?

I feel like I've been running uphill through the last few weeks. Now I'm exhausted. Some might have seen me stumble and fall, but I brushed my knees off and carried on like any normal person would. When you fall face first into the concrete, I've learned that its best to let your tears sink into the pavement and then just get up and carry on. No one needs to know you got hurt. Right?

Wrong.

I'm so fake.

When it comes to talking about myself and how I feel, it's like speaking a foreign language of which my tongue can't grasp. Not can't. Won't. Talk about stubborn.

I don't know where I'm going with this. Which sucks because I've been running aimlessly for far too long and now I'm lost. I need a map. Not a compass. Fuck compasses. I don't need a damn arrow to know where north is. That's what the sun is for. I want another tangible object that would provide me with a sense of direction telling me exactly where I am and where I need to be.

I have to attend yet another conference this weekend. I'm tired of acting so blindly. I'm tired of just showing some shell. I've got fucking feelings too. I need someone to hold me together.

Or maybe I just want someone to hold me. Tight. Because otherwise I would explode.

Into a huge mess.
Guts everywhere.

So not pretty.

So hold me.