I have a feeling of melancholy, I’m sad, a dull sadness type of sad. A cry in my car, dark type of sadness. A lump in my throat, constriction, I feel it and I hear it when I speak. It’s personal, weighing heavy, leaving me reflective. It’s right there, just below the surface while also so deep in my heart.
It’s a deep loneliness, at a soul level. Quiet but deafening. I sit with it. It’s uncomfortable.
I feel like a nothing, a space filler, an observer. Mute. Talking rocks the boat, so I swallow my words. For a while that’s effective, but over time it etches into my being.
Looking inwards the answers reflect back. I know my value, what I deserve, what I really need. My words go unheard, even when voiced. This causes me a lot of pain, a pattern of shutdown. I want to scream. Who will hear in the darkness and will the stars still twinkle?
So why talk when words fall flat? Sit in silence and contemplate. What’s my worth?
Melancholic. Sad.