This too shall pass


I know I seem flighty, and a bit stand-offish at times.

I know my temper flairs, and the room around me and the souls held inside of it feel my heartache by the means of my words.  I spew them, flawlessly and effortlessly while my voice rises and falls with emotion I am unable to contain.  The words escape, quickly and brutally just loud enough so your beautiful mind can process the damage.

I know by the look on your face as I turn my back and walk away that I have done it again.  My emotions have gotten the best of me, the feelings pouring out from every pore placed sporadically on my skin.

I know that I’m over reacting, and you are tired of it.  It has become routine to see your eyes this way.  The sad emotion trapped, holding on to the good times that seem to come less and less as the days go on.  Our good times are excellent, and our bad times are daggers that stay in place through it all, never letting up.

I know that the tears will fall, but I hope that they are not seen.  I hope the quiver in my voice is not discovered, and my tears will fall silently to my pillow as I realize my actions have become out of hand again.  I know that I am wrong, that I place blame on you, when there is no blame to be placed.  I feel stupid, knowing that once again I have caved under this pressure.

I signed up for this pressure.

I signed up for the news broadcasts, and the last calls. The public humiliation that comes along with this life were part of the unwritten agreement. I signed up to sit at home and worry, and listen to this scanner each day just to hear your voice.  I signed up for the days where you come home just to remain quiet, decompressing from the events that have taken place on your watch as the world moves around you.

I signed up for the midnight calls, and the dreams that lead you to anger.  I signed up to hear your voice as you scream at night, pushing away air and showing the emotions that are withheld from the world’s view.

I signed up to sit at this console, and worry about all of our friends.  I wrote my name in ink, giving my dedication to worry and care as a full time job.  I signed up to never be home, just as you were signing up for a family life, I left. I left the normal, the routine and the secure. I signed up to leave you at home, and protect the others that serve.

I signed up to be ridiculed, and have people abandon me because of my lifestyle.  I signed up for this life, the good and the bad.  It’s not easy, and my angst falls in your lap.

It’s not your fault, although these words would seem to place all blame on you.  You make me happy, you really do.  You see, this world is just so cruel.  I hurt not only for myself, but for you.  You don’t show me your pain, as you have become cold to the world around you.  It’s not your fault, its just part of the job. I cry for you, and these screams show what I wish you would let out.  I wish you would show me that it hurts, that the world is painful, and this life is hard.  Show me that I’m not crazy, or weak when the voices in my head silently fill my thoughts with pain.

At the end of the day, I have your back.  My emotions will cease to exist in the powerful way they have been displayed, and you are all I need. These walls will contain my contempt, the drywall soaking up each octave of these hurtful lyrics escaping my being.  At the end of the day, I have bared my soul to the only existence in my world that truly understands this life and all of the heartache held within it, and tomorrow will begin.

Tomorrow will bring new hope.  Tomorrow, I will be here. Wait for me, as these times will pass.  Show me your love, and forgive my displeasure.  Let me bury my heartache and stand with me through the rain. Show me this line does not waiver, and that tomorrow we can try again. We will not become a statistic, because tomorrow love will conquer all.

This too shall pass.

Photo Credit: Miranda Young Photography


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