Originally Published in 2015 after the death of my 107 year old great Grandmother
My Great Grandma died today but it’s okay.
She was 107 and I wasn’t close to her anyway.
No, not insensitive but just detached.
I find that I’m like that with most things, in fact.
Not too much happiness, not too much sadness.
Because if I have either, I’d be full of madness.
Vulnerability is an asset of mine but why do I act like I lack it?
I know the answer, I know it’s true.
I hate the rawness that’s due.
I don’t like feeling exposed.
I’d rather feel opposed.
Needing and loving someone takes a lot.
It takes the strength to be openly sought.
It takes the courage to pull my heart out while you inspect it.
Every vein, every pump, you get to dissect it.
Instead, it’s much easier to wear a mask.
I’ve done it for years and can focus on other tasks.
But that’s gotten…
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