(no subject)
The shit thing about seeming stable is that you will fall apart. You will break and you will bend with the seasons. When the wind blows and your stability falters few know how to respond and tie you up in order to keep you grounded.
I am wobbling. My body is unable continue the charade of life being good. It spends afternoons sleeping away days on my couch, with eyes in books looking for a world that is not my own, or leaking tears into the palms of my hands as I sit hunched in my desk chair desperately calling anyone who could maybe, just maybe understand or lend an ear. My poor kitten sits by the door unsure as to how to respond to this once manic happy owner, who now is crying. And as I try to comfort her, I can’t. I am unable to comfort myself.
I am wobbling. My body is unable continue the charade of life being good. It spends afternoons sleeping away days on my couch, with eyes in books looking for a world that is not my own, or leaking tears into the palms of my hands as I sit hunched in my desk chair desperately calling anyone who could maybe, just maybe understand or lend an ear. My poor kitten sits by the door unsure as to how to respond to this once manic happy owner, who now is crying. And as I try to comfort her, I can’t. I am unable to comfort myself.