Elephant

I am so fragile when I am like this. That is the part I hate most of all. This is what is missing when I say something has gone of out of myself - it is my essential strength, and that strength is the foundation of who I perceive myself to be.

When I am like this, I feel like an empty shell, easily blown over by the wind that howls through.

When I am like this, I feel naked and exposed, like there is no shell left to protect me at all.

On days like this, the slightest things sends me into a tizzy of worthlessness. Your bad day is clearly my fault. Your melancholy mood is from a lack of goodness on my part. If I were better, you would smile. If I were more worthy, you would not be sad.

But I have no value, because I cannot bring you peace. When I scrape together all I can of myself, digging dip and scouring corners, just to muster up enough strength to smile, and offer to cheer you when I am falling down around myself, and you turn it away?

I cannot.

I collapse under the effort of breathing. My chest caves, and I curl in on myself, into nothingness.

Only, I cannot. I cannot sink into the floor and cease to be. I am stuck here, feeling less than useless, unable to flee, because that would draw attention to my sorry existence. I cannot run, I cannot hide, because you guilt would cause you to come after me. You would chase me down with your frowns and your annoyed looks, and though I know full well they are not meant for me, I cannot bear the weight of them anyways. And you would stare me down like one more problem to fix, and I would be unable to run any further.

If I sit here, quietly, perhaps your own cares will absorb your self again, and I can hide in plain sight

motionless and silent.