Sad Clouds

Today I looked at old pictures and felt sorry for times past. "What Hurts the Most" was a song I chose for the part of my day where I drove, I don’t know why because it made me feel all worn out and tired instead of upset. Maybe I’m just becoming desensitized to the fact that the past exists; sometimes it almost feels like a separate life. I am quietly learning that people leave but their memories and lessons do not. It’s cliched.

I cannot help my petulant anger or my helpless tears but I stuff it all back down my throat when it bubbles up. Talking about it makes it worse or maybe I haven’t found a perfect ear or maybe I am learning that talking is really just masturbating…at least when it’s me. I drone on and feel worse because I don’t feel connected to anyone or anything. I feel desolately rooted to the earth like a bent, weeping tree.

I’m back to cigarettes because it makes my feelings all go away. My tendencies to blubber are all blessedly silent. I know it’s a coward’s way but I just don’t feel brave right now. I feel more like a war-stricken city. Maybe it’s just an excuse but I have no regrets. It drives Dustin into snits and I talk to him like a child, just so that smug feeling can settle in my chest and give me something. I sound so pitiful and unlovable, but I cannot deny truths. Refusing to write about it doesn’t make it less real.

Maybe I’m just too loud all the time. Coaxing my anger into thunderous claps. Shrieking my woes like a banshee wind. Weeping fat tears, making little puddles of self-pity to wade in indefinitely. I’m a stupid, cliche summer storm, except without the warmth.

I’m exaggerating. Because it’s easier than putting my sullen lip back down where it belongs and acting like an adult.
Funny, because I’m tired of feeling so old.

This is turning out more sad than I meant it to.

Sincerely,
Amanda