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Silently screaming.   —   Frustration

Work has been loading piles of shit in my lap everyday and it's hard not to quit every single morning at 9:00 a.m. I guess the only thing that’s keeping me here is my immense desire to move to the West Coast and I need the money to do it. So I sit here, sad and hating, trying to put my mind on automatic pilot while my heart and soul is trying to override.

The cold is keeping me tame and wounded, I sit indoors, content to sleepily lay about, loving my home and my boys but longing for warm air and a smile to make me grow again. I am so tired.

My creativity is in a coma. I think it was a hit and run. It's laying there, still and quiet, not speaking or promising anything wonderful like it has so many times before. I think it wants me to pull the plug, but it knows I never will. I can wait.

My mother came to visit for the weekend. I hadn't seen her in two years. We talk many times a week and although I miss her presence greatly I do not feel like we are lacking because of the distance between us. But when she arrived and she sat next to me, smelling like sweet and earthy perfumed oils, warm and exotic, she silently and absent-mindedly stroked my ankle as we watched a movie; I cannot describe the loss I feel. I am a child all over again yearning to grow up.

And now it snows, and I work, and I sit here with too much inside of me for such a small space. I have to burst but I sleep instead. Looking in the mirror I see no one.

Posted 3.16.2004

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