Living Room Thoughts

Here I sit, in the darkness of the living room on an air mattress 3/4 of the way filled, watching you watch me.

I sit here begging to have my voice heard, though not a sing vibration passes through my lips to your ears.

I guess I’d just hoped that I wouldn't have to scream or whisper and that you would just know, but that was naive.

It was naive of me to think you’d notice something, someone, so small.

I sit here eating stale crackers, drinking flat soda, tears streaming down my face in silence.

If you asked me why I was crying I’d probably shrug, say “I don’t know,” or simply begin to sob.

I sit here alone in a dark room with the windows open, the curtains swaying, my soul leaving my body with every breath.

I never mind sitting in the dark, until I began sitting alone, yet never truly alone and instead with my thoughts that stung worse than jellyfish or lemon juice getting in a cut or getting stabbed in the back by someone you called “friend.”

Sometimes you forget what it feels like to get burned by the same flame that lit you up.

If your lucky you won’t remember.

Yet most of us are unlucky and this burning, stinging, crippling feeling probes it’s way into our thoughts at three in the afternoon or one in the morning.

Sometimes you forget how it felt to love someone unconditionally.

To not be filled with the selfish desire of this inbread society whom we’re taught to call “brother and sister.”

The thing is, that sometimes becomes most times and then eventually never.

They say "nothing lasts forever", but not even that’s true, since eventually nothing becomes something new.