my plants all died amid the bitter winter days. i killed them in cold blood; let the bedsheets droop onto the floor. let the mugs pile up on the kitchen counter. my lunch gets cold in the microwave, and it sits there for hours.
i cry in third person over the pasta drawer. because i’m sad, and angry, and tired of this bullshit. because i’ve kept my mouth shut all day, i’ve gritted my teeth and worked around it. but my tears are sticky and pervasive. and i hate them, a little bit.
i hate the bright blue sky. i hate the bleeding roses, and the neon-yellow sunshine. because this isn’t normal, and i’m not okay.
and i just wish things were different. but i’m so fucking exhausted. and i don’t want to try anymore. i don’t want to fight. i just want to walk out to the ocean, and cry you tsunamis, and earthquakes, and landslides. i want you to just listen, for once in your life. i want you to hold my hand, and promise that it’s going to be all right; make me soup, or peanut butter crackers, like in the movies.
but right now, i guess that’s not really an option.