“Miss Jewel?”
I knew when I woke up for the second time an hour ago that I’d be leaving today. I still have obligations to handle, needs of others to meet, and a life to pick back up. But my head is crowded with thoughts, with feelings, whirling in a maddening storm. Do the right thing. Follow your heart. Be strong. Be weak. Be real. Be honest. be kind. Be brave enough to peruse what you want. Don’t care what others think. Care what others feel.
I want this life. I want to wake up almost every morning to this symphony of life. I open my eyes and there’s so much to do. Chores, helping, talking, working, taking care and showing it. I don’t want to leave my current life completely, but everything it’s failed to yield is now only more evident. I’m sitting on the couch considering coffee with this miasma of thoughts circling my head like inky lines around Pig Pen when his little voice comes down. “Miss Jewel? I need help.”
I don’t want to leave. Everything inside me has locked up, hit the breaks and stopped my knees from working as if I’ve slammed into a wall. Z shared his music with me and asked for help with his homework. R has figured out that I’ll play with him almost any time he asks. K’s goofy humor gets reflected in my own.
I’m trying to sit here and write and my stomach is in knots. Visceral. Screaming in my head that I’m not going. That when I do I’ll sit in that house, that quiet, unrelentingly silent house and go mad.
It’s been four months. Four fucking months. This can’t be long enough to want it this much. Where are the roadblocks?!
The first time he came to stay with me overnight, I cried when he left, leaning against the door. Because I knew. I knew then that my life was going to be in upheaval, that long unanswered prayers were about to roll up all at once. I could feel everything in me that I had settled with accepting they would be dead or sleeping were waking up. I could feel the call in my soul. N had to help me get my bearings when, in a state of half panic he texted me and my love drunk, mush brained head grasped the first lifeline. “Just breathe”. I can’t. I can’t breathe when I leave.
How in the hell am I going to get through this one?
I want this life. I want to wake up almost every morning to this symphony of life. I open my eyes and there’s so much to do. Chores, helping, talking, working, taking care and showing it. I don’t want to leave my current life completely, but everything it’s failed to yield is now only more evident. I’m sitting on the couch considering coffee with this miasma of thoughts circling my head like inky lines around Pig Pen when his little voice comes down. “Miss Jewel? I need help.”
I don’t want to leave. Everything inside me has locked up, hit the breaks and stopped my knees from working as if I’ve slammed into a wall. Z shared his music with me and asked for help with his homework. R has figured out that I’ll play with him almost any time he asks. K’s goofy humor gets reflected in my own.
I’m trying to sit here and write and my stomach is in knots. Visceral. Screaming in my head that I’m not going. That when I do I’ll sit in that house, that quiet, unrelentingly silent house and go mad.
It’s been four months. Four fucking months. This can’t be long enough to want it this much. Where are the roadblocks?!
The first time he came to stay with me overnight, I cried when he left, leaning against the door. Because I knew. I knew then that my life was going to be in upheaval, that long unanswered prayers were about to roll up all at once. I could feel everything in me that I had settled with accepting they would be dead or sleeping were waking up. I could feel the call in my soul. N had to help me get my bearings when, in a state of half panic he texted me and my love drunk, mush brained head grasped the first lifeline. “Just breathe”. I can’t. I can’t breathe when I leave.
How in the hell am I going to get through this one?
Comments
Post a Comment