What are you supposed to do when it all seems to disappear? Never at once, do they leave but one by one. Slowly as to not stir a commotion.
Tell me what I’m supposed to do when they glaze over me? Tell me how to feel when they look the other way and forget. I don’t like holding grudges, it makes me sick. I don’t like not holding grudges when they think I’m over it. I break the chip on my own shoulder. I’m my very own critic.
I’m awful to myself, so I forget to remind you that there can’t be too. I avoid it a lot, I don’t love it, but the silence feels better than the ringing. When I’m over it I’m over it. Till then, I agonize in pain for a little longer. I don’t tell you, because I’m so delusional I assume you know. I assume you know when my eyes leave my mind. I think you can tell, but you pick the fruit so slow. I think you’re hungry for it, but you never ask.
I look into their eyes and can sense they don’t feel the same. I can sense they’re not having as much fun with me. I am sad when they go. I am sad when they don’t choose me. I am sad, that I’m sad. I’m a coward with trust sometimes, and it might get worse before it gets better. I push the people I love away, and torture myself all day. I endure a great deal of pain, and send you smoke signals.
Please put out the fire, I can do it, but I beg you quietly to bring me new relief. I pray you show me mercy. I pray you come back on your own. I pray you do it because you want to, and for no other reason besides that. I hold my breath, and hope you love me just the same. It’s not at all feeling the same.
I think I really might be over it now. I don’t want to engage too much with it anymore. I fear I might be done with it for good. I think I’m going to listen to my gut, let my intuition take its place. I don’t have a desire to emulate it like I used to.
I can be good. I am spinning all the time for everyone, but I can be good. Let me try it again this time. The anger of the years I lost burns inside. I’m really, really done with it for good. They have seen me at great horizons, but should I draw this curtain back all the way? I am scared they might scream. With balled fists, that have only recently unraveled. I have worked so hard for peace. I have practiced civility, and now somehow, I feel I lost the love along the way. The chaos is so unbearable, I sought out still waters.
Now I’m stranded. I used to drown, because the bottom was a place where at least gravity was a thing I could feel. If I get this good at goodbyes, I might relearn hello. I spent all my life bleaching dark wool, I want them to know it wasn’t all pure. I yearn to be accepted for what I am, but I am afraid I am the black sheep.
Amber Lee Varnado is a writer, and multi-media artist. With an academic background in film, she really enjoys the art of storytelling. She is currently taking some time to focus on more personal projects. She’s found that writing really has been the best tool of expression for her. Amber Lee is located in Los Angeles, California. She hopes to be able to write for a living one day, and continues to write bedroom poetry, and songs in the shower.