My Shell

We walk around

going here and there

doing something

everything

anything

We keep ourselves busy

so that we can't feel

so that we don't have to think

We like it simple,

but it's so empty

We tell ourselves

that we're fine

we pretend not to care

We're very convincing

and we believe ourselves...

    sometimes

but inside we know

   this isn't happiness

Playing the part

toeing the line

doing what we're told.

It's a safety net

for our emotions,

it keeps us chilled

    until we crack

Maybe we don't know

how to be happy

Maybe this feeling of bleh

is better than the feeling of failure

or pain or humiliation

or any other thing that we imagine

Busy is safe

not feeling is okay

at least that's what we say

to keep it together

But I can't

I've been slowly cracking

my tough exterior is failing

the scared girl is falling out

and falling hard.

I know that it's not safe

for me to feel

or even think

but that's what I need.

I need to feel

because happiness

is something that I dream of

and something that I want

and something

that I finally think that I can find.

Maybe...

   just maybe

I don't have to hide

and fear emotions

Maybe I can show the world

the real me

Maybe this is the start.