Sometimes it doesn’t take a lot to trigger all the buried emotions that you try to numb out with coffee, work, tv shows, and booze.
Sometimes it’s a simple word said to you out and about. Sometimes it’s an action. Sometimes it’s a song. Sometimes, it’s just the way the sun peeks through the clouds at an angle and shines down at you. There’s really no way to prevent it from being triggered. But it’s how you react, how you deal, that makes the difference.
Before, I used to resort to my creative outlets. In the recent months, I have accepted that I have chosen to numb out the emotions by distracting myself without realizing the side effects. I’ve become recluse, short fused, and overly sensitive in the areas I should now. There’s a part of me that wants to say it’s mother nature approaching that’s throwing off my emotions, but that is not acceptable, nor is it true.
I fear that there’s a small part of me, a part I do not realize exists, the way I do not always realize that I’m sensitive and snappish, that wants others to feel broken the way I am. If they felt broken, maybe, just maybe, they would understand the sadness that engulfs my whole sometimes. This uncontrollable sadness tainted by guilt that I know I shouldn’t be feeling, but I do.
I do.
I do.
I do.
“I like that you’re broken, broken like me. Maybe that makes me a fool.” – broken
But I do not wish this pain on anyone. No one should have to experience the sadness and pain that hugs so tightly.
No one.
Wake up.
The morning was dreary and the wind howled through the tree branches, yanked the leaves away from their thin fingers with a cackling laugh. The sound of coffee brewing was soothing as the bread turned to a golden crunch.
Wake up.
I slowly made my way back to the bedroom with a mug full of steaming coffee, swirling with milk as it turned into a hazelnut color. Sliced avocados sat delicately on top of the toast, waiting for their first class seats to be carried into a devouring mouth.
“Hey.” I sat on the edge of the bed. “I brought you breakfast.” I quieted the screaming voice inside my head, worrying about the possible crumbs spilling all over the bed. Hush.
Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders and onto her back as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. She yawned, combed her hair back with her hand and looked at me with a sleepy smile.
“What a treat.” Her voice was hoarse. The large shirt that hung on her frail frame pooled around her. She placed the plate on her crossed ankles and took a deep breath of the coffee. “This is my favorite.” She commented, looking at me with sparkling eyes. I nodded. She leaned over and planted a kiss on my forehead. “Thank you.”
I smiled at her as I stood up. I returned to the kitchen where I had prepared my own set and brought it back to the bedroom. I sat across from her, mirroring her posture as I took a sip of my coffee.
The wind screamed and howled is wicked laughter outside, still pulling at the reluctant leaves. The sky grew darker as the wind brought in rain clouds. Soon, we heard the light drops hitting the window in a comforting, almost pattern like tempo.
“Good morning.” Our mugs clanked together with a smile.
-J.Y.
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