I’ve had a pretty tough week. It’s been tough to function. I’ve been overly emotional…about everything. I’ve gotten upset about things that normally wouldn’t bother me. I’ve wanted to cry. I’ve refrained from doing so. I guess I just miss my friend this week. She keeps popping up. In almost every daily memory on Facebook, there’s Samantha. On words with friends, our game timed out, and still, there she is as a suggested opponent. I want to start a game, but I refrain from doing that, too. It’s in these moments, where I’m more vulnerable and more emotional, that I would give damn near anything to have a solid person in my life. Not girlfriends. I have those. A solid man. One who would just let me lay on his lap while I sobbed. One who, even if he didn’t understand my pain, would at least empathize with it. One who would just run his fingers through my hair or rub my arm until I fell asleep. But that doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me at this time. And I’m ok with it. If I wasn’t hurting over my friend, I wouldn’t even be writing these words, I’m sure, because I’m too stubborn for all that nonsense. But we all have our moments, don’t we?
I decided to go to an open mic tonight. Mel was at school– at a football game working the concession stand for basketball. So I had some time to kill and quite frankly I needed the distraction. I wasn’t going to read. I was just going to go watch and enjoy. But as I sat at the bar next door to where the poetry was happening, my emotions grabbed a hold of me and I started writing. I swear if anyone ever gets a hold of my phone and goes through my notes, I don’t know what they will think. So I wrote a little poem or thought or something for Samantha. And then I did read it at the open mic. I didn’t cry. But I wanted to. My body wanted me to. As I read it, I could feel every piece of me shaking. Partly from stage fright and partly trying to stave off the body wrenching sob that wanted to find it’s way out of me. I know I don’t have to be strong. I know it’s ok to cry. I just can’t physically allow myself to do it. Not this week. Because I may never stop. And fall is slowly creeping in along with the death and destruction of Irma. And I am feeling emotional about it all. Helpless.
Maybe a good night’s sleep is all that I need.
Below is the poem that I wrote. It doesn’t really have a title.
For Samantha
I’m most at peace when the sun is behind me and the moon is in front of me. It’s that part of the day the makes me feel like taking in a deep breath to remind myself I’m alive.
Because the world doesn’t stop for death.
Not like you think it should when you can’t get out of bed because your world stopped.
Everybody else just keeps waking up everyday and having their morning cup of coffee
And I guess if it were me, I’d want it that way.
But it was you.
I’m most ok when I have someone to occupy my mind
It’s that part of the night that makes me forget I can’t shoot you a text or call you……even though I already know you would be the first to disapprove of the company I’m keeping. And give me that look.
But the world should stop for death. Just for a second. But two people die every second…so I guess that would be the end of us all
I’m most ok when I have something to occupy my time.
I write frantically about everything. About nothing.
I play words with friends. I try not to think about it. And then there you are. Our game just timed out. I won by default. We both know that probably wouldn’t have happened if we finished the game.
Words with friends stops for death and then I’m sad because I don’t want it to.
It’s been 2 weeks and two days. And I still have to get up. And so does everybody else who misses you like I do. And those who miss you even more because even though our hearts stop every day, at least once, the world does not stop for death.
RouletteWeekend 