My morning routine now consists of crying for three minutes and twenty-one seconds. Once I went over the two-minute marker, I had to start timing myself. I mean, a girl has places to be and obligations to uphold.
I finish up by gently placing a cold compress over my eyes for five minutes whilst listening to whatever flavor of musical angst I long for that morning. I usually pour myself my first cup of black coffee for the day and proceed to conceal the emotional baggage under my eyes. I have unwillingly developed a new concealer routine.
One could say that this has become my daily mourning routine.
Occasionally, trials and tribulations have a way of knocking us down.
It's okay not to get up quickly. At times, I simply lie still on the ground.
Do I open myself up to more blows? Yes.
But the better question is: Can I take a beating? Can you take a beating?
We must embrace the pain of being motionless, allowing whatever jabs are thrown to tire themselves out. Soon, the jabs will dwindle, and we’ll be able to rise again.
Be that as it may, if you decide to go on a rampage, might I suggest a baseball bat—or a silent nervous breakdown?
There are also types of blows that come from thanklessness and indifference.
These blows give you clarity whilst lying down on the ground. It’s the kind of clarity akin to an out-of-body experience.
One would think to themselves:
Did that really happen?
Is that what I am to you? Nothing?
Loyalty in the midst of pain should go both ways.
When it doesn’t, that trust is shaken.
But here comes the question: What were you offering in the first place?
Nothing.
That’s what you and I may be to some. However, it’s not our burden to carry.
And so, I lie there. Still. Bruised, caffeinated but not broken.
Over the last few weeks, I have had many thoughts, but I couldn’t bring myself to write about them.
My morning routine now consists of crying for three minutes and twenty-one seconds. Once I went over the two-minute marker, I had to start timing myself. I mean, a girl has places to be and obligations to uphold.
I finish up by gently placing a cold compress over my eyes for five minutes whilst listening to whatever flavor of musical angst I long for that morning. I usually pour myself my first cup of black coffee for the day and proceed to conceal the emotional baggage under my eyes. I have unwillingly developed a new concealer routine.
One could say that this has become my daily mourning routine.
Occasionally, trials and tribulations have a way of knocking us down. It’s okay not to get up quickly. At times, I simply lie still on the ground.
Do I open myself up to more blows? Yes.
But the better question is: Can I take a beating?
Can you take a beating?
We must embrace the pain of being motionless, allowing whatever jabs are thrown to tire themselves out. Soon, the jabs will dwindle, and we’ll be able to rise again.
Be that as it may, if you decide to go on a rampage, might I suggest a baseball bat—or a silent nervous breakdown?
There are also types of blows that come from thanklessness and indifference. These blows give you clarity whilst lying down on the ground. It’s the kind of clarity akin to an out-of-body experience.
One would think to themselves:
Did that really happen?
Is that what I am to you? Nothing?
Loyalty in the midst of pain should go both ways.
When it doesn’t, that trust is shaken.
But here comes the question: What were you offering in the first place?
Nothing.
That’s what you and I may be to some.
However, it’s not our burden to carry.
And so, I lie there. Still.
Bruised, caffeinated but not broken.
