Stopped at a red light, besides a six car line, I observe things that I don’t think others do. I notice which car carries a child, and where is a whole family. In a few seconds I have figured out, if I need help, which car I would approach.

Not that I need help. I just wanted to have that figured out. It makes me feel ok.

Having a gallon of water also makes me feel safe. After the hurricane, drinking water at hand makes me feel like the day is fine. Sometimes the day is not that fine, sometimes the day almost sucks, but if there’s a gallon of water at hand, I can’t complain.

Others can. If someone at work doesn’t like their food, they can complain. That’s fine.

I have to hold it in. Inside me, all the feelings are safe.

My friend lost her father and I can’t call her because if I do, I’ll cry. She’ll feel the pain, but I’ll cry harder. I can not let her hear me crying her pain.

I hold the sadness and the anger and the frustration. Until one day it all begins to trickle down the tips of my hair.

I stop my car and I cover my face from myself. I cover as much as I can so I can’t see me crying my feelings and I cry them one by one until I’m exhausted enough that I can’t bother to punish me for it.

At some point, there’s nothing left to hide and I carry on. I observe.

3 thoughts on “Hidden

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