Some days, I'm fine. Really, I'm alright. I keep myself busy and I'm fine. Other days, I don't know. All of a sudden, it's like a wave of despair capsizes me. In the weirdest places, at the most inopportune times, I'm seized by lapses of grief. STOP.
Always, it's when I am alone. In the shower, in this new room. And i can't help it. I can't stop it.
Because this unimaginable sadness swells in me. And I am beyond amazed, that still, fresh, hot tears race down my cheeks. Are you serious? REALLY? What in the world is going on here?
That phrase, of it feeling like you're being hit with a ton of bricks, is sufficient. Reeling from the unknown. Reeling from the change. Reeling from the emotional drain. Incredulous how everything happened. Incredulous at what's truth and what are lies.
It's only, when I'm alone. In the shower, in this new room. That it hits me. No mercy.
I musn't overlook the positives, I really musn't. But damn. RIGHTFUCKINGNOW, it sucks. It's something that I can't really put into words. I really can't. Just release. Through tear ducts. But you know, some days, I'm fine. Really, I'm alright. I keep myself busy and I'm fine.
Sporatic memories tease my mind as I go about my life, my everyday humdrum life. The hardening of my soul, of my heart, of my patience has proved to be tenuous. Yeah. The blinding pain, subdued to a throbbing reminder, has matted into a dull scar, which has had almost all of its nerve endings killed. So sometimes, when I miss you. It doesn't hurt.
I think of you, when I really shouldn't, and I can't help it. Yet the psychosomatic aches have diminished, from those infamous quakes to those subtle tremors. Curiousity has been squelched, and despite my minds wanderings- there is no longer anymore fuel to fire anything tangible, to make anything of my wonderment. Of you.
So, sometimes, when I dare to linger- longer than a baby breaths whisper longer than necessary, on you.. I harness those memories. I will myself back to reality. I put away that photograph I accidentally stumbled upon. I lock the box of memories and will it out of my current state of mind. Because sometimes, I can't help but miss you.
Hope you are well. Happy, healthy, and productive.
Like the hops coating my throat glands, I sit here and realize I should be sleeping, but I feel so unsettled. I do.
Somehow. Once again, caught in the flurried frenzy of possibilities, of opportunities- narrowing it down to just one?
I'm being too selfish it's necessary.
Flits of interest eye catches mind massages reality checks.
These are all deemed necessary
while, I remind you, that I am in no condition to be where you want me to be.
And I can sit and watch you, pretend to try and understand but grow weary of my walls.
My heart is hidden behind a fortress, and only a true prince can coax it out. Like the hops sliding into my intestines, something so feasible should be so effortless.
"What do you see? You people gazing at me? You see a doll on a music box that's wound by a key.. How can you tell I'm under a spell? I'm waiting for love's first kiss. You cannot see, how much I long to be free. Turning around on this music box that's wound by a key.. Yearning.. Yearning.. While, I'm.. Turning around and around.."
