How do you say

I'm sorry.

I'll remember.

Take good care.

You say goodbye

Now I am empty.

Thanks for the memo

So the brother shoves something from a pile that hasn't fallen for two seconds out of his latest Reader's Digest my direction and I'm face to face with a compliable card with the header screaming: Stress.

Right.

So I don't pin everything down quite so directly like that. Especially with the brother. Coming from someone I liberally water sticky topics of conversation down for and don't do deep, soul baring talks with, and with whom I on a single occasion this recent past begged stress as a wildcard for an excuse only to hear an incredulous: what stress? reply, I wasn't expecting this. 

But hey, I can still give the card a look over.

So there is a rendition of this girl sitting sideways with lines directed at her in three places accompanied by corresponding symptoms: head - anxiety, irritability, tension headaches, depression; lips - mouth ulcers and susceptibility to colds increase as immunity is weakened; stomach - digestive problems such as indigestion and IBS.

Right.

So as not to miss the warning signs: muscular aches and pains and general tiredness; skin conditions; heart palpitations and excessive sweating.

I see. Apparently, I'm all prepared for fight ot flight. 

So below that is a summary of what the culprits are: the most common causes of stress involve work, money and relationships.

Checked, checked, checked. Wait. If I have none of the above, then I should uncheck, uncheck, uncheck?

So I flip the card because it goes on, complete with a symptoms summary box, in case I needed further comparison with something not already mentioned: difficulty sleeping, leading to constant fatigue; poor concentration and increased irritability; feelings of panic or anxiety; lack of appetite, constipation or diarrhea; trembling.

So I'm a walking, talking, stressed PBL. Where do we go from here?

And now it's two

I'm not any closer to a coping strategy. My planning ability has gone out the window along with consort of choice. I suppose it'd be something to watch when desperate tactics are called for. 

Ardent stoicism

I just want to cut deep enough to carve out the pain. Where is the root of the root that hides from me so I cannot excavate? Must I keep slashing the surface to become numb to response, then limp and ragged for a time until distress flares again?

If severing need and feeling weren't options, at least grant me indifference. Then the pain wouldn't claw and swell so. Then it would matter not that I had to go through it, alone. Then dark, diseased thoughts would not vex me as they do.

If only apathy were more easily available over pharmacy counters or street corners.

Dear A

You're right. I don't know how I do it. I don't know how I manage without an outlet. Anything - everything - that happens I keep within, and it eats me up inside. 

I suppose the first thing to ask is: if without avenue, is it worth it? And if so, how to deal? Are there, realistically, even ways? If only the solutions were as easy to find as the questions that demand them are to ask.

I don't know what to do. 

In the quiet

He has the spooky ability to completely compartmentalise his life. I've had loads of arguments with him about this, over the years, and I'm sure you have too. If there's something bothering him or making him unhappy, he can just switch it off. Just like that. And get on with his life as if nothing at all has happened. I don't know anybody else who has that capacity. I've always found it very disturbing, that he can just put things in a box and shut the lid.

Maggie O'Farrell, my lover's lover

The thing is, everyone needs order. It's necessary for the everyday. The thing is, by whose degree do we rely? When is it too much; when is it not enough? The thing is, one shouldn't have to know more than one such character in their life. It is an over-allocation, and unfair. But this conversation is an open trap to discussions on significance, on demonstrable cost, and on true measures of value.

I do have thoughts on the matters. But really, I just want to stop falling asleep to the taste of tears and waking up with blood on my mouth. 

I know the problem

My analogies don't work because you're too confident. You're too secure in your position, too cocky about me, so of course my examples are all broken.