The Trickles

Day Zero Project

So much has happened in the last week, most of it unpleasant, and I’d like to not talk about it.
At least not right now.
Right now I want to make myself a mug of Chamomile tea and sip it slowly, gathering the shattered pieces of my soul quietly around me. I want to cry and not have it hurt anymore. The worst thing about putting on a plastic face is not being able to escape the pain, which is always buried six inches under your skin with no way to escape, because you won’t let it seep out of your nose, eyes, ears, or mouth. Is this what life is supposed to be?
I am tired of being cold, tired of feeling worn, tired of feeling utterly helpless. My heart tangles itself in my lungs sometimes, trying to alert me to its needs, but its needs are ultimately unimportant. It does not matter what I do, because the outcome is the same every time. I’ve come to terms with it but it doesn’t particularly matter because the hurt is stealthy and also deadly, sometimes.

Nights like tonight, where I spent a few hours laughing at the days of high school and how much trouble I got in all the time and the things that people said that I was not aware, till now, that they said. Things that hurt because they are gone, irretrievable. 

Don’t get me wrong. I am not foolish enough to call these feelings anything more than fleeting sadness and nostalgia. They will pass and there will be new things to look forward to. It’s just that right now, there is not very many tangible things to look forward to, anymore. I am stuck in the in-between. I feel 16 and alone in my thoughts, my feelings.

Has anyone ever listened to you but not really listened to you? Have you said words but been denied the relief talking brings? I feel like a zombie, and I’d like to go quietly sit down and have that cup of tea now. And perhaps just cry helplessly for a little while.

I’m sorry.
 

Amanda.

P.S. Thank God for this article, and the website it’s ensconced in. It has helped my life evolve in more ways than I can count.