there are days like these: when i feel like crumpling myself into a ball and rolling under my bed. when i want to dive into a cup of hot chocolate and sink to the bottom of the ceramic floor. when i don’t want to talk; i just want to listen. sing me a lullaby and i’ll lie here, perfectly still, my head on your shoulder, my heart on your lap, drifting, drifting, drift–
things are happening. i’m thinking entirely too much, lately. i’m thinking so much, talking so much, asking so much, listening so much that i don’t know what’s what anymore. i don’t know which are my thoughts or your thoughts or his thoughts or her thoughts. i don’t know if what i believe is what i want to believe or what i’m supposed to believe or what i just do believe.
i used to believe things. they were like little marbles i’d keep in my pocket and i could just slip my hand inside and swirl them around and hear them tap-tap against each other and know, know what it all meant. but now.
this thinking, this feeling, this wondering it’s wearing me out.
i want to be angry. it looks so much easier to be angry. shout at the top of your lungs, wave your arms in the air, slam a couple doors, break a few things and then storm the hell out of there and be done with it. goodbye, i hate you, goodbye. i want to be angry, but i’m just sad.
and it’s not just one thing. don’t think it’s just one thing, because it’s not. there’s so much, and this is what scares me. it’s settling, like dust on a shelf. i try to wipe it away, but it floats back into the air only to land in the same spot. things i haven’t thought about in years, things i forgot ever happened, things i want to pretend don’t exist. dealing with these. being adult about it. growing up already. i should, i really should, but.
not now. not tonight. tonight, i am going to stop talking. i am not going to think. i am not going to wonder. i am not even going to hope. whisper a sweet something in my ear and tell me it will be okay. tell me i’ll be fine, and i will believe you.