I sit in a claustrophobia-inducing room,
on a hard, wooden chair.
I clutch my hair, grit my teeth,
as I sniff and fight back
the seemingly never-ending flow of tears.
My head is pounding;
I’ve been crying for almost two hours straight
and counting. Loneliness has overwhelmed my soul
making me feel so empty I can hardly stand it.
Although, at the same time I’m not empty –
on the contrary I’m filled to bursting
with exhaustion and sadness and bitterness,
and I just want to scream until I have absolutely nothing left,
but these prison walls are thin, and the guards would be angry.
People keep trying to give me advice.
and I appreciate their efforts more than they know.
The problem is that they have never been in a situation like mine,
so their counsel falls into some deep pit surrounded by my skepticism.
My body has never ached this much.
Ached from stress and weeping.
Aching to embrace a loved one –
I imagine I can still feel the ghost
of my mom’s arms wrapped around my small frame
giving the comfort only a mother can give.
It was gone in the snap of a finger.
I know things will get better.
That’s the ups and downs of life.
Plus, I have faith that God will see me through.
Not to mention if others have done it, why not I?
I wish this knowledge made me numb to the pain.
just a pansy, that's all
