My fingers softly run over the smooth keys of my keyboard. I don’t add pressure. I don’t type. I have nothing to say. There are no words. There is nothing- nothing but tears. My tears fall from my eyelashes and find solace in landing messily on my keyboard. I have nothing to say. No reason for the tears. No reason for the sobs tearing at my throat. No reason for my fingers to be shaking. Maybe I will give birth to them. Maybe I should allow them to pierce the surrounding silence. Maybe if I let them out they will explain why I hurt. Why I feel such a solemn pain? Or maybe if I let them out I will be left with more questions. Who am I crying for? Who has left me in such a state? My heart beats at a pace I find uncomfortable. My jaw clenches and grinds my teeth together. The pressure causing my head to throb. I focus on the pressure. It is better than focusing on the uncomfortable feeling in my chest. Better than focusing on the problem. Better than trying to fix it. Can you fix a broken heart? Is that possible? Do we sew the pieces back together? Maybe my doctor will recommend surgery. Maybe my doctor will inform me that I have days or better yet hours before my imminent death. Maybe he will tell me that there is nothing wrong with me. Maybe he will admit me into Whitfield. Maybe I will be locked into a padded room. Maybe I will be prescribed a list of medications to help with this pain. But who knows? I am tired of the maybes and the pains and the uncomfortable pace my heart keeps beating. I am so tired. And I want to tell you that I am tired. But every time I go to open my mouth, I have nothing to say.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
My fingers softly run over the smooth keys of my keyboard. I don’t add pressure. I don’t type. I have nothing to say. There are no words. There is nothing- nothing but tears. My tears fall from my eyelashes and find solace in landing messily on my keyboard. I have nothing to say. No reason … Continue reading “No Title”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":18,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/858"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/18"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=858"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/858\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":988,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/858\/revisions\/988"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=858"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=858"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=858"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}