Some days I want to sit and cry
I’m not sad
I’m not sure what I am
My heart is at peace
As peace as it can be
When my anxiety doesn’t take hold of the wheel anyway
Even then I’m not sad
I don’t know what I am
I am
Something else
Someone else
I’m always happy
outwardly
I’m always quick with a joke or a hint of sarcasm
but some days it’s different
It’s like I’m setting apart or beside myself
Watching
Begging
What the fuck are you doing?
Why the fuck are you getting upset?
What’s going on?
Some days I just want to sit and cry
I never know why
Do you?
I’ve spent most of my life thinking that I was broken
When all I really am is afraid on most days
Afraid to live
Afraid to let go
Words are what I have
They’re all I have on most days
Writing them down
Rarely speaking them
Always smiling from my silence
It doesn’t mean I’m always sad
The days that I’m with my kids
The days I’m sitting next to my love
The days I grab my skateboard and hit the pavement
The days I stand next to the crashing waves of the ocean
Letting it all go…
I often wonder if there are some of us born with bereaving souls
Something lost in translation to the rest of our contemporaries
Not something missing or broken
but born missing something
or someone
Maybe a place and time
This morning I woke happy
Warm sheets
Her smiling face meeting mine with a gentle kiss
That leviathan of anxiety sat next to me and then resting with great slumber on my chest
My thoughts turned morose
A sullen remorseful numbness found itself resting fiercely between my brow
Robbing me of the joy of my morning coffee
Some days I want to sit and cry
I’m not sad
I’m not sure what I am
but I can’t let it win…
