I’ve spent hours at a time examining my character flaws
drawing imaginary lines
nailing
myself to the cross.

And I bleed openly here
arms stretched wide
sacrificing my peace of mind
for your comfort.

Blood dripping, anxiety crippling
I am exposed for all to see
a masquerade of everything you need me to be.
Up on that pedestal
right where you left me.
Being mom, daughter, sister, aunt, cousin, friend,
shoulder for you to rest your head, and
I’m asking if you’re okay.

My open wounds left unattended.
As much as I try to set aside time for self care
to start to stitch up injuries left unmended,
I always end up listening to the next chapter of
your sorrows
neglecting my needs, even though that’s not what I intended.
Pacifying your cries, never interrupting, for fear of being offensive.
I am as still as dry air
flawless
not a care, I’m listening.

I’ve let myself down
more times than I can count.
Led presentations with eager faces waiting for me to fail
hands shaking, full of self doubt.
I’ve let plenty of opportunity slip though these hands.
These hands that hold your troubles
keep your secrets
roll triple doubles and I am right back in this prison.
I am a shell of what you see
double vision

I am here.
I am present.
Prepared with automated, pre-programmed responses.

So the masses take more than their allotment
and you see the quiver of my lip as a weakness
but
you don’t understand.
Pieces of me are being rationed
rented
recycled
returned and re-positioned.

I am empty.
I’m being candid.
Trying to practice what I preach, stay true to my beliefs.
I’m exhausted.

So when you say I should take better care of myself
Trust Me
I know.
But how are you feeling?