I wish I was a better present. It wouldn’t have to be an extravagant present. Not a jump up and down, show it to the world, cry for joy type of present. But just a present.
Maybe wrapped in newspaper and tied up at the ends. Nothing flashy or fancy.
A present that’s more about the meaning than the actual usefulness. Like the story or the feeling is the gift not so much the object. I want to be the present that you always carry in your pocket or wear or can’t leave the house without because you’d feel naked.
I just don’t want to be the present that everyone keeps opening up and going “Aw.” That everyone just passes around or regifts. Like it’s the last thing they wanted to see. I just don’t want to be the disappointment that erases you’re smile.
What do you know?
What do you know about silence?
Do you know that it’s loud? Did you know that it hurts? Filled with words unsaid, late sentiments and feelings. The most sorrowful tears and gravest of fears. Pain.
Silence is filled with broken promises and confusion. It’s filled with quiet solemn promises and clingy demons that test your resolve and clutter your mind. Silence is like the darkness where the demons lurk and invite you to settle in, and what do you know? Sometimes, you hug them back.