At 12 it could have been six hours
but two good conversations and now it’s 2,
Another day of not enough sleep
Another night of “I’m awake now.”
Another try at typing words
to say something I can’t.
Reading someone who says it
so much better that I (don’t) want to try.
That’s a writer!
People read them.
And I’m a, I’m a, I’m a,
Can a scream say it better
or a curse I can’t stop
Do any measures count
how many times I haven’t…?
Given up. Gone to bed and
fallen asleep. Broken the dishes.
Surrendered to demons whose voice sounds
just like mine.
“None of this matters, it’s useless,
pathetic, you joke,
If you would just quit
the world would thank you. Honestly.”
And every affirmation
disappears by 2:30
Swallowed in the roar of
futility and silence.
What if I never…?
Is the trying enough?
You’re joking me, right?
No. I don’t think I am.
6 thoughts on “Process”
I am proud of you for not giving up, sometimes, actually often, I have the same battle going on inside of me.
To be read and re-read starting at 2:31 am: you are worthy, your writing makes a difference and is a blessing to so many.
Prayers and total empathy. Hugs and a joined stomping of feet. Does fist pounding help? A high five or hand holding offered. OR laughter and a fall to the floor.
I’ll take all of the above.
I know there’s a whole community that feels this way. Or at least some variation on this theme.
Yep. Perfect this morning. You were the one who said it best today.
Thank you. That’s exactly what I hope for–to express what’s going on for me in such a way that we can nod at each other and say, “Yep. This.”