like most silent sicknesses,
creeps in through the cracks that
sleep
love
contentment
time
failed to fill.
The most believable of lies,
unhappiness is not an emotion.
It's a credible source.
A voice I can't turn down.
An unregistered pain,
undetected
until it gathers in corners--
never collecting dust,
but rather growing,
multiplying,
preparing for it's return.
It convinces me I am not enough.
It plants the option to give up.
It moves in, leaves a mess, refuses to change,
It ignores what I work hardest for:
My body.
My job.
My relationships.
My stability.
And denies any chance to meet Satisfaction.
For every good thing that happens,
I find 17 more that haven't.
The moment I step towards peace,
I retreat to nerves.
It is more than just my nature to live unsettled,
confusing drive for fear--
blurring any difference between
incomplacency and ungratefulness.
It beats in my blood:
the awareness that
nothing
lasts forever and
everything
will turn to gone.
Whether it
walks
runs
hides
away,
the time it will last severely reduces
the moment
I give in to its charm.
Unhappiness has lived here far too long.
Because I can't afford the weak alternative.
Is my favorite part of the day. Not only because of the 17-snack meal I throw in a grocery bag 3 minutes after I'm supposed to be out the door, but because for a whole hour I'm no one's slave but Cosmo's. Or Elle's. (Or Oprah's)
I hardly have time to match my left shoe to my right these days. All you need to know is that this song and a daily supply of my body-weight in Coke Zero is what preserves the negligible ounce of sanity still left around here.
somewhere.
all day. everyday.
how things always get worse
(to the point of unreality)
before they get good.
and then they get really really good.
about you, on the other side of this bright screen
on the other side of my world,
looking for a part of me to grab
examine,
measure,
keep/trash.
that I am someone's daughter.
that I was born with a heart
and should have been working all along
on getting it to run like one.
that I can't expect different:
outcomes
if I don't change:
intakes.
that true happiness disregards luck.
how all along I waited for purpose
when the key to fulfillment is
filling.
nothing is permanent.
and playing make believe with forever
is no way to live
today.
(to the point of unreality)
before they get good.
and then they get really really good.
about you, on the other side of this bright screen
on the other side of my world,
looking for a part of me to grab
examine,
measure,
keep/trash.
that I am someone's daughter.
that I was born with a heart
and should have been working all along
on getting it to run like one.
that I can't expect different:
outcomes
if I don't change:
intakes.
that true happiness disregards luck.
how all along I waited for purpose
when the key to fulfillment is
filling.
nothing is permanent.
and playing make believe with forever
is no way to live
today.
My favorite version, of my favorite hymn, on my favorite night of my favorite week.
I am still a waitress.
I am still proud to be one.
Come Monday,
(not a moment too soon)
I become an actual adult,
with an early to rise job
and a late to arrive paycheck.
I am celebrating. Again. And again.
I continue to assume
reciprocal stalking
to the way I keep up.
Despite my skill of running away,
I am still in Chattanooga.
I am still single.
I am still single in Chattanooga.
Yes, I have lost weight.
No, I didn't go on some crazy diet
or much less,
get any kind of surgery.
I didn't just dye my hair red,
unless yesterday was New Year's eve.
I want to be vegan
(as soon as Greek yogurt releases its hold one me).
I practice effective comebacks.
I squander appropriate situations.
I am still (half-heartedly) scrubbing off
last weekend's color fun,
and looking for another excuse
to run
(before I notice I no longer have one).
I live in a chalet.
I consult Pinterest.
I am so Zombie-ready it's sad.
I don't want children.
I want nieces/nephews/Youngs.
I am strong in the arms,
but weak in the knees
to silly things like candy words and promises.
I am getting old. Fast.
I am reckless with who I let into my life
and even more so with who I let stay.
I am not afraid of anything
except maybe that I've wasted all my good stuff,
trust, patience, hugs,
on the undeserving,
with very little reserve for the
Godsends.
I have yet to pass a test
on the back-breaking lessons I've "learned"
and with each passing day
worry
that when it most counts
I am reduced to
mush.
