Tiny parts of me keep falling apart. Sitting on my couch reading I couldn't tell you why I started to cry. I have no idea what set me off, this time or any of the others. But, as much as I hate to cry, these random breaks are moments of relief. They release some of the tightness in my chest, they silence some of the thoughts in my head.


The only problem, they leave just as quickly as they come. They simply aren't enough. What I need is to break, I've been waiting to break. To fall apart, to shatter into a million little pieces. It's easier to rebuild from scratch. Better to release every emotion, every tear, all of my energy in one moment, one awful and amazing moment.


I can't choke down the tears I don't know are coming and I can't hide the cracks I don't know are there. So, I'd like to make myself break down. I'd like all the dramatics to be over, because once I get this out I will move on.


I will get over myself. promise.