Wilting

1-2-11     3:12pm

I feel like crying. I feel very alone and I don’t know what to do. I’m sitting on my bed. Just came in from writing about trees after storming out because Mom was bugging me. If you ask for my help you can’t get mad at me for not doing it YOUR way – “the right way.”

I stood outside for awhile hearing Silent Night. I am so confused yet so aware. And so tired… My season is gray. I am surrounded by stupidity, evil, things that make no sense, things I wish didn’t make sense. And it’s all beyond my reach. I’ve been trying to convince my mom to get a dog. I can’t even take care of myself.

In all likelihood, soon I won’t remember this and I will feel pleasantly confused and tuned out. But I’m not there yet. There are windows of reality to endure. Mom doesn’t understand why I’m  mad. And she thinks I’m mad at her. I’m usually not. And there’s no way to fix it. It just is. Need some disco and a nap.

I am wilting. I am laying on wet leaves in the forest staring up through the trees at the sky. I know the wolf is coming, the flood. I just need to lay here.

Reality is contagious. Careful where you point that thought.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2011