Tuesday, March 19, 2013

On Days Like This

On days like this I find it hard to be upbeat. On days like this my mental illness is showing again. On days like this I collect all of my imperfections in a glass jar and drink them down. They taste dirty and bitter. I drink them over and over until I feel like throwing them back up. On days like this I don't want to get out of bed. I would rather dream. But I have things to do, places to go, and people to see. People that want to tear off bits and pieces of me like I am a coveted loaf of bread. Maybe a stale loaf of bread but they are hungry so it doesn't really matter. On days like this I listen to music. Happy or moving tunes to get me out of this whole I have dug for myself, one shovel of dirt and gravel at a time. On days like this I am spilled red wine on my grandmother's white linen table cloth. On days like this I have no philosophy.  I am too tired to ask questions, too exhausted to seek answers, and too damned weary to know the difference. I just keep plugging along. On days like this I cry myself to sleep. Salty tears are my nighttime beverage. I don't need to be shattered from the inside. I am already broken. I am the derelict toy car that now only goes in circles. I am the rag doll with the missing eye. The teddy bear with bald patches of fur.The favorite sweater with the missing button. I am dried out marker tips and melted crayons. I am the stamp collection that has gotten warped and damp. On days like this I am the lost bird calling from the cliffs. I search and search for my location. On days like this I am ashes in the wind. I scatter with the slightest of breezes. I am frightened. I am unsure. I am complicated. On days like this my stomach growls but nothing seems appetizing. I will probably fill my stomach with too much coffee and cigarette smoke. I am weary but I am trying to turn this day around. On days like this I am haunted by my own fears. My own accusations. My own desperation. On days like this I am quiet and contemplative. I will drop everything that falls into my hands. I will forget to check the mail. I will probably burn dinner. I will definitely not sleep well. That's ok. I am not too worried. There is always tomorrow and you never know what tomorrow has in store for you. Maybe tomorrow I will feel like the queen of Sheba. Maybe I will feel like superman. Maybe I will feel like me again. As long as tomorrow is not another day like this.....
                                                                                 Neurotic Nelly

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