A rock stands alone. A rock is cold and hard, it is not embraced in the warm arms of those around it. A rock does not lean on those around it. It holds itself steadfast so that others may have the support they need. Even this rock shows the wear and the cracks from bearing so many storms. And as the exterior erodes, at it's is a mass of seething emotions that have never properly been shown the light of day. And what if this rock rends itself asunder? Who then will the people around them go to for support? Will they pick up the pieces of this rock and put it back together? Or will they find a new rock, one that is stronger and does not crack. Will this rock lay alone a broken and useless fragment of it's former self?
This rock feels fear and loss. It feels neglect and scorn. It feels anger and hatred. But this rock is a good rock. And holds itself ever tighter against the torrential downpour as those around it cling and shelter. Because a good rock does not break. It does not bend. It bears the weight of the world in stoic silence for the people around it. Even as it feels it's surface is worn smooth and bare, and as the seams of emotion boil within it and threaten to burst forth from the fissures slowly opening to the world.
I am a rock...
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