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Writer's pictureSam John

DO IT, SCARED.

SCARED.


I am terrified.


I’m in pain. I wonder if the pain will ever stop.

I know it will.

I don’t know how my heart does it.

I don’t know how or why it chooses to love people so fiercely…

Over and over again.

No matter how many times it is scorned and left behind.


I sit here.


Alone in this room.


With the lights off. The tears seem incapable of ceasing.


I don’t know how to stop the ache. The pain. The sense of loss.


And for the first time, I don’t feel the need to.


The need to distract. To numb. To ignore.


I want to feel it all. And be honest. And let my heart grieve.


The loss of love. Of friends. Of home. Of support.


The loss. I lose. I lose. I lose. I lose. I lose.


And my heart questions if it’s ever been worth trying.


If I should’ve just left well enough alone.


And settled.


I don’t settle. I’ll do it, scared. And I will do it, well.


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