Here and Now

No One Listens We pack our emotions into used cardboard boxes labeling them with permanent black ink without tender care no crinkled tissue paper or newspaper print We haphazardly toss them tape them and try to forget We arrive at our destinations slamming car doors eyes to the pavement seeing nothing shoulders caving in on broken hearts We stride in brightly  wide smiles and cheerful hellos fucking liars hiding behind name brand clothing make up job descriptions dressed up to sound prestigious fancy fucking words flow from our lips We make it sound so pretty, don't we? Angela Minard 2015© Artwork by~ Audrey Kawasaki

Maybe sleeping through the night is a thing of the past. I wake up in a panic, as if I have something of great importance to do. It is an elusive feeling. I grasp blindly, but it slips away before I can figure it out. I feel this pressure now that I am home. All of these expectations about who I have become...I'm not there yet, and maybe these are just my own interpretations of who I think everyone else wants me to be. I'm used to wearing a mask to hide my feelings, and that is still difficult for me to let go of. There is this lump in my throat~tears unshed, and I know that soon they will pour out and take everyone by surprise. Not me. I'm expecting them.