I don't know

I don't know how to speak. And maybe, I don't know what it is that I need to speak of. I am forewarned about life, but most times, I still get surprised by the strength of its force. I am confused most times on what is acceptable and on how to accept things as they are. I am barely capable to hold it all in, neither am I capable to move against such things.

That's why I like poetry. Poems speak without having to speak. And I like that. There's a strong desire for me to let it all out. But there's this strong sense to just keep it all in. The only balance between the desire and the sense is poetry. And I saw how it has been a wonderful tool, until I have to speak. And to really speak in this matter. 

I know that even my speech right now is in a form of a riddle or a puzzle, if anyone may try to solve it. It may be a piece of blabber to everyone else who don't care. But maybe sometimes I have to speak up and speak out. 

And say: I am hurt. 

That's what I cannot say. The state I've always hidden behind a string of words, paired analogies, and stuff same. Somehow, it is much more difficult to say these three words than to write a hundred-word piece going round in circles only to get to that point. Because I can't. I started off by saying I don't know how and I don't know what is to speak of, but I have come to the conclusion that: I am hurt. 

I thought I prefer honesty over kindness. It annoys me to think that people think I'm incapable of handling the truth so they just try to wrap it up prettily. I can hardly handle kindness, I thought. But then, I realized that neither could I handle honesty. Because it hurts. And when a hurtful truth has just been presented, I try to find a hole in it. To refute it. To say that maybe it is not as it has been said it is. But what can I do? The endpoint should always be acceptance. 

And it's difficult. 

When you're hurt. 

And I don't know. 

I just don't know what to speak of anymore.