I’ve been suppressing myself to stitch and pick everyone else up. Why do I have to drop everything, rebuild everything, be the answer, keep peeling another layer off of me. I’m withered, burnt out, and lost. But no one asks if I’m okay, just throws more of their complaints, struggles and pain at me with no space to breathe, so I become cold. I never had time for myself or to analyze my scars, just trapped in a jar. I don’t want anyone clinging to me, or make rounds taking on the toxic stream that always overflows. I no longer want to work the hardest, be reliable, be the one that borrows money to people, takes in vent sessions like I’m a punching bag or overcommunicates in a storm. I’m tired of the black smoke, I don’t want to be their reusable band-aid and be on call anymore. I can’t even heal myself, stop asking me to fix you. I’m done being someone that is needed by others. My battery is drained, I’m running away where no one knows me. I’m going to travel as a wild flower and find what was taken away from me.