clocks that work
smiles that are genuine
i lower my head
on the discomfort
around my right temple
it’s not quite doing the trick,
but i drink it anyway
because i’ve told myself
that it will work.
i talked about my father today.
i drank with him two weeks ago.
the discomfort has moved there now.
i’m still drinking the tea.
i still can’t believe my mother is dead.
life is a shit hole.
i don’t have enough money to get out of it yet,
but i dream about the days when i will be out
there will be pictures
i will feel good.
when i’m not away,
i’ll do work that i love.
i will not dread each day as it begins
and in all this loving and seeing
maybe i’ll find a clock that works
and smiles that are genuine
from one person.
The night is going to be a long and depressing one. I have zero motivation to complete this last assignment for this class I have absolutely no interest in, but must take as a program requirement. In addition, I have to complete a process recording for my internship – which is the only part of my life I like right now – by tomorrow morning.
Context – I’m in the second half of my MSW program and I’m getting tired of my classes, their structure and the one million and one readings they all come with. That, plus my job and the internship, which is a program requirement as well, takes up a lot of my time and energy and I just want it to be over and done with so I can sleep. Actually, I spend very little time on my classes because of how little they interest me. All I want to do is buy skin care products, eat filling, but tasty, food, and go out and dance.
Also, hi. It has been a very long time. I did miss being here.
The end of the week
Is already here.
I’ve been waiting
Ahead of time.
The days no longer try
There is now
The scales from my eyes
Have been removed.
This is all one
But one day
I will end.
It’s raining outside and I’ve never seen anything more reflective of my insides.
I still call them that, because I’m not sure I believe in souls, so I can’t say I have one.
It’s really fall now. Leaves have finally started decorating the concrete.
Nature in the midst of buildings. One jungle inside another.
There’s music playing on my laptop. I’ve never heard the song, but it’s beautiful.
The kind of beautiful I want to be when I grow up. The kind I can point to and say “puberty did that”.
But high heels and rain don’t go together. Neither does this new song with my mood.
This one is okay. The tempo is a bit too quick, but I’ll leave it.
There’s purple near the ground and a colour like turmeric still hanging on to the limbs.
I hate when people stop outside the door. It makes me nervous. They can turn around and see me at any minute. I don’t want to be seen – not by them. I’m not ready.
It’s been raining for days, so I haven’t been able to wear my new sneakers. The running shoes I bought so I wouldn’t have an excuse, but that I’ve only used twice. I’ve decided to just wear them now. No sense in wasting a perfectly good pair of shoes.
A perfectly good life. A perfectly good day. Except is there any such thing? Was there ever any such thing?
To combat low self esteem you should look your best at all times.
Yeah – because that definitely works.
Because breathing is all I can do, I exhale and inhale through my tears, forcing myself not to think because combining problems won’t fix any of them and let’s not make this cry about everything wrong in my life. She is gone. It is unbelievable, but she is. And you did get lost today because you didn’t get enough sleep and you felt like a failure and you wanted attention from somewhere and couldn’t get it. Because the internet is not a person and notifications aren’t hugs.
It is okay that you forgot your class, because messing up five percent of your grade will not prove detrimental to your future or your well-being. You feel like you can’t keep track of everything at work, but it’s not your fault the office is understaffed and you are human. Please don’t beat yourself up.
She is gone, my love. And she loved you while she was here with all she had. Do the same, to yourself.
Love your body. It is the only one you have.
I pound against the doors of time
And beg them to release me.
Why did they lock me in here
When did they lock me in here
When will I be let go
Into the darkness
From whence I came –
Free from memories
I float on my emptiness
And wait to be swallowed up
By this great vacancy
Which I’ve been allowed to occupy.
I wrestle with my ambitions
And my knowledge
And I fight and give up
Side by side.
“What’s the use?”
I ask myself.
“There will be nothing
When this is over
The same way there was nothing before.”
I release my breath
And sink into myself.
“Endure,” I say
“It will all be over soon.”
It’s death again, and my life, and what I’m to do with it. My long distance relationship and when and how I’ll find out what love is. How long I’ll live. How long my father will live. How things were before I was here. How they will change after. Why I was even born in the first place. Why I am being made to deal with this. Why there isn’t forever. Whether or not there really is anything afterwards.
It’s 3:47 am and I’m awake thinking about these things, the same way I do any other time I’m awake.
Fulfillment, success, happiness. Will I be one of the lucky ones who get to have these things? Or will I be one of the sad ones who never figure anything out, spending their whole lives searching for answers only to not find anything at all?
How many more years until I come to any sort of conclusion?