Eyes now Open

Your brain was packed with the particulars of the events, cramming it until it was full past the brim. While good things continued to happen, these unfortunate happenings would continue to fall into your lap, splayed over your neatly pressed skirt until it was stained with confusion and exhaustion. Emotionally trying times are said to be points where you learn the most: but what about those who are clinically depressed? Do they feel anything but the deteriorating calm that may have once surrounded them? You shake your head in sadness.

You climb the stairs, laden with weight, trying not to fall and fling your belongings everywhere. You reach the destination and plop on the floor, ripping at the upkeep and the understanding. Things may have combusted, but the truth will continue to work in favours.

As you sit, you see memories go flying across the walls: new ones to be established and old ones to be written over. New moments of excitement and joy, but also longing, frustration and annoyance. Such is life, you say to yourself.

And then the walks and the swings and all of a sudden you are back where you understand things to be. Its just a conversation but one with someone you can trust: one that you can skirt around life and laugh and smile and be serious with. He knows what I am thinking, he can relate to how I feel; it has never been in vain because we are almost blood.

He scoops up my scattered thoughts and rolls them between his hands into a ball. He nods his head and tosses them back to me.

I open my mouth, screwing my eyes shut and pop the large, viscous ball past my teeth. I grimace, he coaxes. Get ‘r done, M. With a final surge of effort I swallow and look up. He is proud and smiling, nodding his head in approval.

I told you you could do this.

I smile in turn and pick myself up from the floor. We reenter two minutes early by clock and two minutes late by event, slip into the back and sit. Promise me truth.

Thank you that I now have a vague idea of what I’m doing.