I feel like I’m 12. Sad, sorry age to feel . . . .all empty, lonely, desperate not to go home. Becky, my birth mother, has come to pick me up at Michelle’s house. I spent the last night or two at her house. Now it’s time to go home, and I’m on Michelle’s house steps crying because I feel so lost.
I’m 12 years old again. Except my home is different, and I’m supposed to be much older. But tonight I am her. Empty. Loney. Desperate.
Tonight I came home from traveling 300 miles to my in-laws, except I’m more of their daughter than an in-law. Sometimes my mother-in-law and I clash, but we smooth over our tiff quickly. I hated leaving her, but I was glad to come home to what was familiar and home to me. Except that . . .
I still feel 12 right now.
I think Daniel is contributing to the flashback. It’s true; I have a husband Daniel, but I don’t love him anymore, and I feel nothing resembling love or want by him. He is my loneliness, my coldness, my undesirability.
Do you know how you can feel lonely in a crowded room? That’s how I feel with Daniel. Lonely even though he is 6 feet away from me. 6 feet. How prosaic.
Ironic how I used to be a whore with all the guys around me. Wanting me. Desiring me. Craving me. I wonder if I would allow myself to be used and cheapened again just to have someone to be close to me, wooing me, desiring me?
I don’t write tonight to find answers. They’ll find themselves. I write tonight for the blessing to not to feel so lonely, not to feel so desperate, not to feel so unwanted.
I had a panic attack earlier. I feel another scratching up my throat and cutting off my breath. The keys are slipping away from my sweaty fingers and my heart wants to somersault itself out my chest.
Tonight feels hopeless. I know I will feel differently tomorrow, but in this moment, I just wish I wasn’t here.
“I see a bad moon a-rising/ I see trouble on the way / I see earthquakes and lightin’ / I see bad times today.
Don’t go around tonight / Well it’s bound to take your life / There’s a bad moon on the rise.”
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