I’m happy and grateful.
I’ve had enough of all the good, and the bad.
The clouds were bright today, a slight hint of grey shrouding in pretense,
But nothing to rain on our sunshine.
This feels familiar, but strange at the same time, odd
because this feeling has been absent for a while
See, there are many tattoos and scars on our arms, but here’s a keloid
And it is embarrassing.
Tried to do better, but still misunderstood
No, not a victim.
But tonight, as I was rolling dough so that tomorrow’s noodles for my dad would be perfectly cooked
“Do you still think of Mommy?”
“Yes. Girl, you need to let go.”
I don’t know why I asked, perhaps just to check if we still share that sentiment
Which I’m no longer a part of.
Skin is still intact,
Clothes still ironed,
Blankets still puffed,
Scars still evident.
I’m trying to be a good person,
Why won’t you give me a chance?
I wanted to write something positive, happy, encouraging.
But no. You had to rain.
I’m going back to it. It hurts more because nothing comes out of goodness, even if I don’t believe in this shit. It will get better, and it won’t as well.
I wish I have the courage to sit upon the window ledge again. Again. Let me sit again. Again, let me sit again. Courage. Sit. Pick up a call. Drink.
Sadness, but I’m not sad. I’m desperate, desperate to..
Stay away from me.