I am...

I am frustrated.

My mind is filled with a thousand thoughts to say and as usual, they stay beneath the surface.
I cant assimilate them into words. It should be easy. I am a woman of many words - but just as long as I can write them down.

I feel that every time I take a step forward I am pulled backwards by two.

I summon just enough bravery to do something and I am walking in the dark with only a small glow of an idea. It is scary and I don't have the strength to do it yet. Something has stopped me doing what I want to do. It is crippling me.

I want to say so much.

I want to say the things that I want to say.
I want to say that I am happy more times than I am unhappy.
I want to say that arguing frightens me.
I want to say that all that I am meant to say, and not crumble in a sigh of unattainable conversations.
I want to talk more than I listen.
I want to be understood.
I want to say that criticism, however small, truthful or appropriate chastises me into being half the person I am.

I know who I am. I see myself trapped in a little jam jar with the lid screwed tightly on. I look at myself sitting inside, dying to get out, dying to say the words on my lips, dying to explain them so that they can be understood and really understood for what they are.

And then the moment overwhelms me, and I say nothing. And I know that the words sink deeper and deeper and they are hard then to retrieve.

And I am writing this and know I have nowhere to run or hide. I am exposed. I am vulnerable. And I am angry. I am angry for all the things I cannot say. I need time. I need sleep. I need sleep.