My fingers are numb. The prickle as the feeling returns. I’ve come inside from a quick smoke. My habit is at war self preservation. The snow falls delicately. It is misleading and deceptive, the high school beauty queen whose personality is that of an ice princess. I’m still in my hoodie and jacket, my mind is slow to register that is now safe to shed its protective coverings. I can’t wait for my coffee to finish brewing. I want to wrap my frightened fingers around the mug, so they can know it’s ok to feel. I tap along the keyboard awkwardly in edgy juxapositions. The tv is on and weatherman reveals nothing new- It’s cold. Where is the announcement to not be alone, to love, and cozy up in our favorite pjs? I have too much time to myself, which is another way of saying with my thoughts. I’m lost in my thoughts, there are too many. It doesn’t help that I’m an empath, always feeling things and deeply.
When my energy is high this translates into new paintings and poems and songs. When it is not, I’m filled with ideals but lack the drive to use my outlets. So they gang up on me and leave me drained. I am cramping and irritable, the monthly crucifiction has left me bereft and weak, angry for no reason. I wish I were a lion, I’d let out a mighty RRrrroar! For now, I am a restless ball of energy sucking those in who get too close to my malovent black hole.
My family creeps around me and invisible eggshells. I admit this brings me a perverse satisfaction. Maybe I need Vitamin D or sunshine… maybe I need to wait out this stigmata… maybe I need to sing. Maybe I need to scream. Maybe I need to run until I’m out of breath. Maybe I need to feel alive because this process of shedding feels a little heavy and draining, like dying. And I’ve learned not to fight, that I can’t fight it. I can’t control it and must grin and bear it. And I dislike vulnerabilities and not having some form of control. Maybe I have an issue with things happening to me because I like to think I help shape my destiny… Maybe I’m too old for snow angels but not God. Maybe I’ll pray.