This is me, empty. I have nothing to offer. Drained emotion, pooling in the corners of my heavy eyes. I want to embrace this weakness, because everything else feels like pretending. If you expect me to be strong, to
have-it-all-together, you should know I have already failed. If you are counting on me, I promise I will let you down. How can I save you when I cannot save myself?
This is not peace, exactly. It is an acceptance of sorts, and it brings a certain relief. Like the realization that sometimes, silence holds more meaning than words. So listen closely. This is my silence.
Peace is impossible, but it will come. My life is full of impossible things.
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