Fulfillment

Fulfillment.

The word leaves my lips feeling foreign slipping off my tounge, what does it feel like?

What’s the natural aura of the word?

What senses does it invoke?

Is fulfillment not meant for the broken ones like myself?

Is it only for people that don’t make minimum wage?

I wish I was rich, than I wouldn’t give a damn about anything.

Instead, I’m just this twenty-three year old woman who is hurt. I still feel like I’m six years old sometimes. The wounds are always open, salt seeping into them with a simple word or name.

My answer is to not feel anything, act like I’m made of stone. That I’m unbreakable.

I’m not, the very opposite. I break every few seconds but, I do it so silently nobody would notice. Without a sound.

I ponder if I will ever be at peace or feel fulfilled.

Probably not, that’s only an adjective for the rich and normal people.