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Do you ever feel like you just have all this raw emotion trapped inside of you, just waiting to spill out? Sometimes in tears, sometimes onto a page. Bursting out like a waterfall, or rushing smoothly like a river. It feels like it needs to be emptied out of your system, flushed clean like dirty pores need to be after a shower or a long, hot bath. Even if you're in the middle of a drought.

That girl who's out there every day, living, whether smiling or stone-faced, she isn't me. She's like a projection of my real self, who's hidden inside, captured in a crumbling cage. Just waiting for that day, that moment, where everything will crash down and she'll just be free. But wouldn't that be harder? Showing your true self, not hiding anything. Not holding back. In a way, it's easier to go on like things are. Keep your raw emotion inside. Save it for those times when you're alone, truly alone. And then you can let it out. Bit by bit, piece by piece - broken feelings, shattered memories, marred by time, blurry and scratched. Soak them into your pillow. Those confused feelings, for a while they're okay. They're accepted by your palms, your cheeks, your sheets. Pour them into a work of art. Words painting pictures, emotions becoming beauty, pain, loss. But at the end, you dry yourself off, pick yourself up, and go back to storing it inside. Who knows how long the chains will hold before the flood releases? Who knows when a crack and leak will appear? You must simply wait. For that sliver of peace, hope, joy. Acceptance.

But is that any way to live?

The only way.