I place the weight of my every thought on it. I do my best to silence the beasts of fear, resentment, anger. I muster up reason and truth. I swallow the pill.

It was never a consideration because there was never a question. Never a pause because there was no other reality. Risk because there was never a consequence.

Now there is guilt. Brutal, dirty, catholic guilt. A guilt that was buried deep in my bones when that water splashed in my tears.

She would feel a burden I could never carry away. He would have a new smudge across his lenses. Selfless or selfish, I couldn’t kick the pedestal from beneath my own feet.

Secrets have never been my gift. Not with you, not like this.

But shame is stronger than I can bare. Louder and bigger. Bullied me into silence.

A stagnant cloud of burnt air told me first. Followed by the pang of turbulence in the pit of my stomach.

A long delay. Distraction in the desert. Three tests. Two more.

All of my senses went dark. Silence glazed over my body. I felt numb and I felt everything.

The question.

I never painted this lifestyle into my fairy tales. I never felt a maternal tug in my chest. I always knew the answer.

But I didn’t expect the answer would take this much of me.

I lost something I never wanted.

With the wallpaper gone, there’s something different in the grain.

I watched my body swell with life. I felt every layer twitch and shake. I tasted the end as it dissolved in my mouth. I let it go.

The other side feels hollow. Empty with a desperate plea for peace. It doesn’t rest in my belly, yet in the bottom of my spine. A constant ache to stand tall and strong.

But I’m learning strong doesn’t always mean tall. Sometimes strong doesn’t mean strength at all.

I let the question break me. I crumbled in the wake of it. I surrendered. I mourned.

Hollow, fragile, and raw. I lost something I never thought I wanted.