If there has been one thing that has turned difficult by the year is that child-like courage to easily ask for somebody to just listen up. You suddenly turn too old to crib and complain and disturb their schedules. It's probably easier to be there for others and encourage them than to hold your own tears as you get struck.
Your calendar simply does not seem to have the time for your crying sessions sometimes (which, on second thoughts, is infact a great privelege). You try to put up a brave front but on the inside you are scared as shit and just racing against time each second. Your patience and strength can somehow betray when it comes to your own self.
Sometimes, you don't need an ear to listen but a mind that can read between the lines. Yet you have no time to sit down for the conversations or you may miss out on even more time. Then, you just tell yourself to smile and keep trying since that's all you got to do.
On days, you weirdly wish, sharing wasn't a requirement but rather telepathy was a real art. It's interesting, how we someday grow up to have these giant egos to open up. But, thankfully, being blessed with the gift to write, you can at least say that to paper which is difficult for your mind and mouth to elaborate.
PS -
Even on the day I am stressed about a writing assignment, I guess I am still just writing. Haha no way you can take writing out of a writer. Sometimes reaching out is too taxing, writing remains easier. #Anne_Adler_Fandom for a reason. 💟
Within moments of writing, you suddenly feel fine with a better perspective. On a calmer note, all our problems turn just as giant as we make them in our heads.
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