They are heavy on my shoulders, the words
and expectations.
You tell me they aren’t there – it’s in your head, my dear.
But I cannot carry both of our worlds on my shoulders, no matter how strong I am,
nor how little my world is.
The directions that leave my lips are purely pretences behind the words that I am told.
I don’t mind. They are merely anchors, dragging behind an already paralysed boat,
unable to ever set sail.
I’ll just set my world over here, but don’t worry – I’ve still got hold of yours.
I know I have made you lower your sails, your anchors are down and you are lost at sea.
My world tells you this is how life is meant to be – it’s how it has always been, right?
Maybe I shouldn’t carry your world after all.