Somewhere down there deep inside of me there is this small little man.
And he is hurting, and I can’t get to him.
He is in pain and I cannot comfort him.
He needs to be told everything is going to be OK, but he is crying.
He feels more than I do, so I have taken over day-to-day functioning.
I have shut him out, created a box so that I can go on living. But I cannot feel, so I am mostly dead.
The only part of me that lives is in the box and this keeps me going.
Why do you hurt? Why can’t I comfort you? Why are you so afraid?
It is better to be outside the box, because where you are is dark, it is cold and it is a world for the dead.
I cannot live with you inside this box.
I am just a shell, a soulless human being roaming the world looking for guidance.
But in this damaged, soulless self there is life, waiting to be set free.
You are writing this letter, I know you are there, please do not cry you are loved, you need not fear anymore because I’ve got your back. I will hold you and when the world looks upon us, it is you that they will see.
And I will fade into the background where I belong.
A lifeless shell, damaged for sure, animated by the smallest intentions to keep you alive.
So that you may once again be free.
To love, to laugh…
To live.
