It’s not something you just know, or feel automatically.
You don’t know its there till you’re calling a friend at 3 in the morning, on the verge of tears.
She asks you what’s wrong, sensing something the moment you say hello.
It’s nothing you say, hoping the louder and more confidently you say it, the less real it will become.
How do you explain to someone that school’s great, family’s great, hell life’s pretty dang great, but something else, small but present is building within you.
You refuse to say it because voicing it, saying it out loud might make it that much realer.
But what if voicing it saves you.
What if explaining the broken pieces within you brings them back together again.
So, after the third nudge from your friend you realize it’s time.
Time to save you.
With a voice just barely above a whisper, you sigh and mumble,
“Let me explain.”
