2 posts tagged “strength”
All my life I've been a rock for others. Like rocks, when water seeps into their cracks, some eventually break apart inside where they are most vulnerable or erode from constant bombardment of the elements, if the vulnerability is near the surface. People have seeped into my weak places and broken me apart slowly over time and people have worn me down when I've worn my weakest burdens near my surface.
Sometimes I feel like a lowly, gray and morose rock, tired of holding myself together for others, tired of being. Yet, I gladly let those I love into my soft, safe places and eventually, no matter what they always become a part of me. This I do not regret, even if they break me. Yet sometimes the strain is difficult. I want to hold up, for myself and for those I love. This is a worrisome thought.
Then I begin to wish I could be a liquid and flow into somewhere warm and safe, into a solid crevice, winding its way to become part of a permanent deep lake, untouchable and bottomless. But that is a dark thought and I can't be this way, or lean on another in such a manner. I can't expect it from another. Liquid and running and dark is not who I am.
I've been strong for my parents. My mother, my father. I've done it for friends. I've been a shattered rock for my first love which nearly broke me to pieces and possibly has, though I hold together like a mosaic, trying to at least be a pretty rock on the outside. And so, I've done it for lovers. And I go on this way. And I may always go on this way. But I want someone to hold me together, or piece me together if I break. I want another rock to crash down beside me and wedge me somewhere firm, so I feel safe.
To close off all my cracks and openings? Impossible and selfish. To either crumble into ashes and let everyone take a part of me? At least I would have given. To harden into something impenetrable? I suppose only a diamond can be so lucky, so perfect. And I certainly am far too flawed to be such a thing. I too wear myself. Aren't we all ticking time bombs? Lava cools and forms and the rock is predetermined. So are we at birth, by those who shape us and how we are raised. I can't help but think, of how much the struggle is set? How much is choice?