I have to sit here and have the headache of another.
Stop telling me to be strong.
I want to live with/in my weakness.
Do not tell me to smile if you didn’t wake up as me.
My battle is my own.
I will own it.
Do not, for minute, trivialize what your hate has done to me
even when you say to me, “it’s not about you but…”
Don’t tell me about “positive thinking”
after killing me with your every word.
This death is mine.
I cant un-die it.
Now stop telling me about ” a better tomorrow”
if my today feels unliveable.
There is a language to be found
in a visible silence.
How shall I tell this non-story
without implicating myself in a “we”?
Sometimes misery swallows one.
Today 1,230,000 and a half people died
Find me a language.
This is urgent.