I read in books often about emotional displays.. how it hurts at night and apparently howling into your bed at 2am is the idyllic alternative to being heartbroken.
But see, sometimes it’s 8am on a Tuesday morning..the shot of dusty sunlight, warm breeze and tea whips you at the start of day and you are standing at the kitchen bench waiting for the toast to pop up, errands lined up, endless meetings that cease to bring value to relationships, you miss purpose and promise and you miss everything so much..you don’t know what to do with all that sadness and nightmares..
You make promises and keep secrets of others, you can read their faces and wish to let people know how much you want to be the part of them, but you just stand there, pretend and stay hidden from all, along.
Very soon you push it away…until the thoughts visit you again in the evening while you sit amongst a pile of clothes to be folded or take a ride to the neighbourhood stylist, to fix your lovely hair.
It follows you everywhere.. all the way back to bed.
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