Duty of the Outlet

Emotions are draining for an outlet.



They're shoved farther and farther 

Crawling to cram themselves into corners

Of their mind.

Of their heart.


Intricate staircases 

Built upon endless sentences and declarations of love

Loves that can never be confessed

Loves that burn with such a fire

Such a passion

That outlets become a necessity.


Such is the duty of an outlet.

The shoulder to cry on,

The crutch to lean on,

The friend to ramble to.

Such is the duty of an outlet

One they do without a complaint or a qualm.


Outlets know what they're meant for.

They live for it.

Outlets were crafted from empathy

Molded by betrayal, heartbreak, isolation

And forged by a desire to be the outlet 

That they never had.


And so the outlets absorb the emotions.

Listen and respond to the endless sentences

About the tendrils of shadows in your mind.

They cradle and repair the shattered glass

Caused by unrequited love 

Or the stones thrown by those you once thought would never toss them

Or by the tap-tap-tap dancing of those your hopes and dreams gave another chance.

They listen and guide and shelter.

Such is the duty of the outlet.


Such is the duty of the outlet.

But who is there for them?

Who is there 

To hold the hands repeatedly bashing into their own skull?

To mop the tear-flooded ground?

To force the nails away from the skin?


Who is there when the outlet 

Needs their own?

Who is there for when their own and everyone else's emotions

Start spilling over?

For when guilt starts wrapping around 

Tighter and tighter

Lifting them higher and higher

Until they can't feel the ground below.

Until they're dangling and gasping for breath

For freedom

For relief

For someone to notice?


Such is the fate of the outlet.

To be isolated while being surrounded,

To feel guilt's noose tighten when you're too broken-

Too broken for others to use and go to.

Too broken to function because

Who wants a damaged outlet?


Such is the duty of the outlet.

A smiling, pure, innocent-seeming facade

Gleaming from the screen.

A beacon of comfort for those they love.


And this is the want of the outlet.

To be needed, trusted, confided in,

To help and be there for those they adore.


But this is the curse of the outlet.

To do all of these






Scared to be tossed aside once everyone knows.


This is the duty of the outlet.


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741