Like a mold, it grows.

Like a disease, it spreads. 

Like a wound, it festers. 

I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know what to say.

I don’t know how to say it.

It’s as if I sometimes don’t know how to breathe on my own. 

I have so much to be thankful for, but, even with that, at times, I’m lost. 

Others have it so much worse, and I know how fortunate I am, but recently, it’s been like walking up a staircase that just keeps getting longer the further I go. 

It’s harder than I’d expected it to be. I manage, but not without stress.

I’m realizing that some things may be coming to a hiatus for God knows how long.

I’m realizing that, contrary to the way I portray myself to be, I’m terrified. 

I’m so scared of the change that’s to come, and I don’t know how to express that. 

Frankly, I don’t want to have to express it, either. I don’t want others to worry about me, and I don’t want to be seen as careless or incapable.

So, naturally, I let it stew until it inevitably boils over. 

And, when it does, you’re there. 

But there’s something different about your presence from anyone else’s. You don’t stir the pot; rather, you remove it from the burner and find the problem. You add the correct things and fix the problem before I even know what the problem is.

The issue with that is the fact that I don’t want to burden you with it, but I subconsciously do anyway. I’m just so grateful that you welcome it. 

I can’t help but fear that it’ll become too much for you to handle. I worry that you’ll get scared like the others have. But you insist that you won’t, and I really want to take your word for it. 

I’m trying so hard to be better. I’m trying so hard to do for you what you do for me, but I don’t know how. 

I suppose that all I can really do now is show you I love you in my own way. I just hope that’s enough. 

I know it’s enough for you because you always promise me that it is, but I hope it’s enough for me, too.

I’ll survive in the end, and it’ll all be worth it, but I’m still scared.

Because, like a mold, it grows. 

Like a disease, it spreads. 

Like a wound, it festers. 

And you. You are there for all of it.