The Consoler

Written by: Lauren Johnson

So now what?
What do I do now?
I feel… empty.
Like… like something disgusting crawled inside me
And ate all my insides.
…Ate my soul.
Ugh, I feel horrible!
I know, I know… people are tired of me.
Tired of how I complain,
Or rather… the lack of my complaining.
I sit and think all the time. 
Staring off into space.
It’s just… I feel safe there.
Safe in my mind…
But I’m not safe.
I’m far from it!
I’m stuck in a world of depression…
And no one cares.
They just want me to get over it!
But I can’t!
I hate it!
I hate how they look at me,
Like I’m crazy or something!
It hurts… it hurts so much.
They don’t understand…
All I want… is to be held.
For someone, Anyone,
To hold me in their arms… just for a moment.
To tell me it’s okay and that they’ll be there.
But no one does.
It hurts because…
Because I’m the consoler, never the consoled.
I go to others to help them,
But no one comes to help me.
I feel… trapped.
Trapped between wanting to cry and scream,
And wanting to smile and be done with it.
But… what can be done?
Life goes on and I must continue my work – to console.
This is the price I have to pay.
Everyone comes to me with their burdens and lays them on me,
But they don’t see that they are drowning me.
Oh well… I will continue with this task that I have been given,
And I will continue to carry others burdens – 
Until the day I mentally can take no more or until… I die.