Some may never understand my rage. 

When you want to scream, but everyone is listening. 

They don’t hear you any other time. 

They don’t help but are always ready to judge your mistakes, your failures, and your shortcomings.  

You want to break things, but things cost too much to replace. 

You’ll be fine living without them, but the ones who care about you need them. 

Constantly considering others when they don’t consider you. 

Thinking of others when they don’t think of you. 

Living with this lingering frustration and not knowing what to do. 

Holding it in because releasing it could be dangerous. 

Being paralyzed physically, mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually. 

There is no peace. There’s noise everywhere. 

It’s pure insanity not to have safety. To not have support. To not have stability. 

Feeling lost. Stuck. Confused. Angry. And most of all, frustrated.

As zen as I want to be, I can’t help but admit that I abhor those feelings. 

I do my best with them, but it’s hardly enough. 

None of this seems healthy to me. 

So, I return to the only place I could think of in this condition.

The place where I could just be myself and fully express. 

The place where I’m always accepted no matter my state. 

The place that doesn’t judge me based on the content I create or how I choose to do it.

No matter how far I drift, this place allows me in with open arms at any time. 

It coddles me when the external tells me I don’t matter and when the internal is too overwhelmed. 

When I’m emotionally drained, spiritually confused, physically exhausted, and mentally anxious.

I return to the page.

Originally Published on Medium: February 17, 2025 at 17:35.