[redzaru]

---

I have not written in years. Father imprinted upon me a lack of importance for it.
And yet, when I pick up my utensil the singular urge is to write of my Self.
That is what a journal is for, after all.

This is a reclamation. He is gone. I do not need to bear the weight of His conditioning.

I only hope to find my tired penmanship cathartic.

---

I never asked for much.
I asked to live. To breathe. To be.

To be fed until I could feed myself.
To be carried until I could carry myself.
To be held until—

I do not want to hold someone myself. To burden another with my care. Make them worry over me.
I have sabotaged myself in spite of this.

A close friend. I kissed him.
I do not know why or for what reason. I ache day and night over my thoughts.

There is an ocean inside of me. One that churns.
One that bubbles and crashes, thrashing around the small vessel in which I sail.
Emotions. They are not foreign to me. I know them quite well.

But they are strong. Stronger than I can hope to ascribe adjectives to.
I learned how to control them. Control them. Of course I did, He taught me.

The ship takes on water as it is rocked and tossed by the waves.
Emotions reach a peak. The pressure builds. The one that floods inside might not be the one that rocked the boat.
But it happens all the same.

Stress. Sorrow. Disgust and hate. My favorite to masque behind innocent indifference.
There was a crack in the hull—a crack in the mask—that led to this.
He was leaving and I yearned still for company.

I only wish that he yearns as I do.
I wish that he may see past my actions. Come to understand the turmoil I carry inside.

I do not want to burden the ones I care about.
My Nemal nui—My sister.
My friends. him.

How I wish I could dissolve into another Self. I would not have to bear the shame.
I was overcome and irrational.
And yet, that night I slept with a heart that fluttered faster than my wings ever could.

The ocean is loud tonight. My head and heart are heavy. I am upset.
I managed to tell this to my companions. I managed to be honest about a single feeling.
I managed to be genuine. I fear, however, that I may worry them.

They do not know what eats at me. Much as I know little more.

I wish for simplicity. I wish to live as a human does.
To not wear a mask. To not drown or sink in this creaking vessel.

But the bow is leaking. I may very well sink.

I was taught to control my emotions.

The Control is slipping between my fingers.

And yet, I persist.