Dear... Life
I'm not sure why I'm feeling this way but there is a strong undercurrent of melancholy that bubbles up ever so often. It's been surfacing a lot more recently, on the morning commute, on the path home, in the quiet lunch breaks where I'm alone. Something will catch in my throat, a noiseless gasp, my nose stings, then my eyes start filling like those blood bags in the blood banks. They start flat and clean and transparent suddenly injected with liquid, becoming soft and curvy and ballooning with warmth. Just that sometimes my eyes dump the liquid all over my face. The eyelids make poor dams for this onslaught of water.
I would like to say my life is falling apart, but you prove that wrong every single second I stare out any window, and see the world functioning perfectly normal. The truth is I'm just not doing very well at dealing with you and everything you throw at me. I wonder if I should get professional help but I am also religious, and a part of me believes that I shouldn't be feeling this way because I have a God who should rightly be able to reverse these wallowing feelings of despair if only I would ask. Am I not asking? Why? Am I asking but not receiving? Why?
I often wish you were easier. I am too used to comfort and ease. But then I think I believe that if you were that easy, you wouldn't be as fun. I often wish you would challenge me, but when you do, I throw my hands up in surrender. Or slave away at some trivial part of the puzzle, running myself into a rut, then self-flagellate when the storm has passed and I feel like I didn't deal with it the way I should have. I think I don't know what I truly believe in, or I refuse to accept that I can have conflicting beliefs within me. And perhaps that is what is eating away at me. The cognitive dissonance is pushing me off balance, pumping the river that breaks my dams.
I've been thinking of cutting you off, or at least cutting me off from you. Cause you will go on with or without me, that is the reality I have come to accept. I've been close to the edge many times, I don't know what has stopped me all those times.
My dear, it's not you. It's me.