Jealous of God

The tears fell without me knowing. I was wearing makeup, so I couldn’t swipe them away. As delicately as I could, I wiped away one tear and then the other. I reached into my bag for a tissue and dabbed away whatever was left. None of this was as discrete as I would have preferred, but the train was pretty empty and the three people sitting across from me didn’t seem to notice. One was sleeping.

I was on my way home and thinking. I forget what about, but I suddenly felt very alone and I was. My closest biological relative is my father. He is not, and has never been, a person I can talk to about anything. My brother is a child. My younger sister is terrible at conversations and my older sister is too far away. There was no one else physically near me. I then thought of the only friend I had made and kept in, throughout and after high school. She was still in Jamaica. It was when I thought of her that my tears stopped restraining themselves. At that moment I really wished that I could talk with her, in her room, on her bed, at the opposite end of the hall from her mother’s bedroom, in her house, up and across the street from mine. But then I remembered that she was now a Christian and I thought of how I would hate to hear her mention anything about god and his hand in anything going on. And then I felt worse. There was definitely no one I could talk to.

* * *

I’ve just finished a bowl of cereal and was simultaneously reading a section in an article on how a lack of social support in addition to constant stress negatively impacts a person’s mental health. I thought of my suspected depression again and how it might be a good thing to have it checked out. But then I thought that I didn’t want to know, because if I really did have it I would use it an excuse to do all the things I barely keep myself from doing now – like staying in bed, all the time.

I’ve been enveloped in a low mood that started off as exhaustion after making a few calls for work. I honestly felt physically drained – from making phone calls and talking to people. And then suddenly I couldn’t do anything productive. I couldn’t read my article or clean my apartment.

I opened the karaoke app on my phone and tried singing a few songs. To my knowledge I don’t have a cold of any sort, but my throat was not clear and I sounded awful and this plummeted me further down. Several times, I tried to get myself to do something else. I stayed on my phone. Even if I did change my activity, I didn’t do the things I needed to. I finally got annoyed with my singing and swept the kitchen, my bedroom, the hallway and bathroom. I wondered why I hadn’t done it hours earlier. What had kept me from simply getting up and doing it? I felt bad for only doing it then, for wasting all the time before on an activity I was engaging in to make myself feel better, but that had only made me feel worse.

While eating my cereal earlier and reading the article, I thought of the man I met recently. I thought of how my last boyfriend was my confidante and how having boyfriends be confidantes suck because when you separate, you’re left with none, which is why friendships are necessary. I thought about my friend that I’m meeting up with tomorrow. I had thought about her when I was sweeping. I thought of perhaps confiding in her about how I’ve been feeling lately, but then shook my head mentally. I rarely see or speak to her. She’s incredibly busy.

I thought of that day on the train and processed my thoughts about my high school friend. I imagined talking to her and thought she might immediately turn to god. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like that in my mind she turned to god. I wanted her to listen to me and empathise with me and leave god out of it. I realised I was slightly jealous. I wanted my friend to myself. I didn’t want to share her with god.

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The end of the week
Is already here.
I’ve been waiting
Ahead of time.

The days no longer try
To hide.
I know.

There is now
No distinction
Between them.
The scales from my eyes
Have been removed.

This is all one
Continuum,
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.

Skip.

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.

Floating on Emptiness

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
And want
And love
And hurt
And desperation.

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.”

Awake

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? 

Before I Move

 

I wonder how long
It will be
Till I get tired
Of sitting in hopes
And maybe’s
And if’s,
Looking at everyone else
Live
And wondering
How to do it myself

How long
Before I abandon
My efforts
Towards creating a plan
And simply
Move

With the feeling
That pushes me
The vibration
That pulls me

How long before I stop
Telling myself
That I can’t
Because I’m not strong
Or extraordinary

How long before I realise
That I don’t need to be
Either of the two

How long before I stop standing
Before I stop lying down
Before I stop sitting
In anxious impatience

How long before I move

Unbothered

My fingers smell like chicken. I just finished eating the biggest salad of my life. He was on the phone, but not saying anything (the usual) while I carried on a conversation with a dear coworker I don’t get to see often. He sounded fine, the way he usually does after riling me up for what I think is no reason at all.

No reason at all. That’s the way it usually seems to the other person, doesn’t it? It’s never understood, where “all this” is coming from and what the purpose of it is.

Love. Tina Turner. What does it have to do with anything really?

I was thinking earlier today that maybe my love is just different. Either that or I am incapable of loving others which makes me a cold-hearted or heartless human being, which I am completely fine with. Even without the ability to love, I know what I possess the ability to empathize and to feel compassion for others. I know that I care about people and that is enough for me.

I’m on google now. I’m looking up the word love – who would’ve thought?
n. an intense feeling of deep affection
v. feel a deep romantic or sexual attachment to (someone)

I look at all the synonyms: deep affection, fondness, tenderness, warmth, intimacy, attachment, endearment. Care very much for, feel deep affection for, hold very dear, adore, think the world of, be devoted to, dote on, idolize, worship.

Scratch the last few off; I don’t have such regard for anyone. Everything else seems just about right though.

Just to make sure, I look up affection.
n. a gentle feeling of fondness or liking

Fondness
n. affection or liking for someone or something

What’s the problem? I have all of these. I care for him, want him to be in good health, to eat and rest well, to he happy and successful. I want this for everyone. The only thing I lack is an emotional high, which one can’t be in for an ongoing period – unless drugs are involved – and those moments do come and go, so again, what’s the problem?

I’m impassive a lot of the time.
n. not feeling or showing emotion

I don’t mind that, at all. It means I can care for you deeply, but won’t fall into a wreck if one day you are not a part of my life anymore. I’m fine with that. I don’t want to think that my sanity or emotional well-being is dependent on any one person outside of myself. I have enough trouble trying not to live off of society’s approval.

The bottom line is that maybe I love you. Maybe I don’t. I’m fine with you in my life and I’m fine with you not in my life. Either way I’m unperturbed.  I think this is a good thing. You know, self-preservation? It will help me to keep going in instances where I might become crippled.

But whatever. What do I know?