I Break A Little More Each Day Under The Pressures Of Your Secrets

Prabuddha Sharma

I am the bookkeeper of the chronicles of your world. I do my best to keep them safe, I tend to them, I find ways to preserve them for longer. But Iโ€™m worried Iโ€™m failing you.

The weight on my shoulders increases every time you confide in me. I feel myself sinking deeper and deeper into the quicksand, barely able to pull myself back up. Then, when I do, another load is dropped on my shoulders by somebody new. Or maybe itโ€™s you again, with another chronicle of your heartbreaking issues.

By now, Iโ€™m carrying a world on my back. Your world. The one you entrusted to me.

And I listen. And I absorb. And I promise you I will be there to talk at any given hour of day. I give you advice, kind words and do all I can to support you. The worst part? I do all of this out of choice, yet it is breaking me. I feel my heart beat harder every time I fear for your life and I want to be sick, yet I wouldnโ€™t have it any other way.

Just imagine if something were to happen to you, that I feel I could have prevented in any way. The artificial feeling of failure, of despair, sweeps through me like a tsunami when I imagine hearing bad news attached to your graceful name.

Iโ€™m scared every time our talks come flooding back to me. No, itโ€™s not that I didnโ€™t encourage you to unload your troubles onto someone – anyone. That someone just happened to be me. โ€˜Fineโ€™, I thought. โ€˜This is good. Iโ€™m happy to be a listener, an adviserโ€™. But I underestimated the deep, dark, twisted corners of your mind. Iโ€™m afraid you will hurt yourself. Iโ€™m afraid you will hurt somebody else. But more than anything, I, and my ashamedly selfish self, am afraid you will hurt me.

I canโ€™t lose you. TC mark

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