heavy

Today, I feel heavy. Like there is a weight in my chest that is burdensome and painful and bigger than me. The weight isn't my own, and yet somehow it is. Somehow it is deeply familiar and it is the one I have always carried, only intensified one thousand degrees. This means that I am brought to tears every other moment for what appears to be no reason at all.

I don't have words for this. I don't think there are words. Some sadnesses, some understandings, some sympathies, aren't meant to be worded. They are meant to be felt, and to be felt completely and intensely. I don't understand this world. We are destroying everything we can see: our planet, the ones around us, ourselves. We are doing it with eyes wide open. We are tearing life apart. And it feels real and it feels heavy and this is what I am carrying today.

When I try and pray, there are no words. There is no articulation, only tears, and I can't form sentences and I feel like God understands my grieving today. Where there are no voices, where the pain cannot be voiced, let me be a voice. Let me be a voice.