My fingers hover over the keyboard, unsure of where to start. My mind is currently engaged in a tug-of-war; part of me wants to get rid of all the words that have been tumbling inside my mind, while the other is unable to face the demons. I want to write. My soul is shaking from the burden I have been carrying for months. But my heart rules my fingers, and until I’m ready, I can only bleed out my pain.
I know I’m being protective. But what for? I have been defensive of his actions, my actions. But what for? I’m the only one left fighting for this.
But what for?