She woke up every morning with the desire to do right,
to be a good and meaningful person,
to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was;
to be happy.
And during the course of each day her heart would descend from her chest into her stomach.
By early afternoon she was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right,
or nothing was right for her,
and by the desire to be alone.
By evening she was fulfilled,
alone in the magnitude of her grief,
alone in her aimless guilt,
alone even in her loneliness.
"I am not sad,"
she would repeat to herself over and over,
I am not sad.
As if she might one day convince...
Monday, January 27, 2014
Subscribe to:
Posts
(
Atom
)
