benevolent sun.

The sound of my heart beating drowns out the fan on my dresser. My vision is blurry, but not due to tears. My bedroom is still. Everything is still.

24 hours ago, the ground beneath me shook. Everything was moving. I felt sick and my equilibrium was off. It felt like it lasted forever. I stood up as best as I could to make sure everyone and everything was okay. It was.

We were all scared. Nobody is really prepared.

I feel afraid and paranoid. I’ve just been feeling off all week. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t want to be around anyone. I’ve run out of spoons. I want love and support, but I also just want to hide and cry. I don’t want to be touched, and yet I want somebody to miss me. I want to feel like I matter. Why do I always feel like I don’t matter?

I’m so annoyed by everything. I feel broken.

I don’t know what I want. I don’t know why I’m even typing this. I suppose part of me was hoping to release something that’s been underneath my skin, but I don’t think it wants to come out.

My reflection is not mine as I morph into someone else. What lies on the other side of my mind? Will I find solace in something I’ve yet to find?

The dim light that illuminates around me isn’t enough to let me see much. I sit quietly in the shadows, inside and outside of myself. I’m waiting for an answer, but the call isn’t coming through. Searching for the answer is so hard. I can’t make anything out. I’m feeling for something to pierce into my core. But I’m left with nothing.

Sorrow wins tonight. I’ll keep still. I’ll lay here on my cool sheets. I’ll rest my head on my pillow with tear stained puddles in the cloth. Curled up in a ball, I’ll wait for morning.

Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day. Perhaps the darkness will give me back some spoons.

I can only hope that when I close my eyes while waiting for sleep, the love, light, and energy will soak into me, and I’ll awaken with a sense of purpose. I’ll want to leave this barren room and bask in life and love. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to free myself from my self-created prison. Even if it’s just for a little while. The happiness never lasts too long anyway.

Maybe I’m just hoping for too much.




Close your eyes, little one.
Don’t try to run…

This life is not done.



One day you will again feel the benevolent sun.




Posted by

These are the musings of a 32 y/o dreamer, wisher and doer. All my posts are authentic; I write what's in my heart.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s