simple things. like sleeping on the bed. and not the bathroom floor. like eating an actual meal. and not just drinking tea. like waking up in the morning. or taking a shower. or smiling.
my grasp is slipping. i'm sleepwalking through my days. i sit in the corner of the couch. curled into myself. and watch the shadows taunt me as the sun dances out of reach.
i thought i was covering it all so well. i thought only certain people could see the emptiness behind my eyes. but an acquaintance mentioned it last night. as we talked at the bar. me with my bottle of white wine. he with his draft beer. and the flicker of concern flashed across his face. and i knew he knew.
panic. my friend. panic. my well rehearsed act faltered. the curtains came down. and i'm left on stage. and everyone knows how it should have ended. but i've forgotten my lines.
it's these little things that send you out of control. these tiny truths. the fact that though you don't talk about it. everyone knows. you try to hide beneath your hair and makeup. but your sadness and shame shine right on through.
your laughter is hollow. your heart trails after you. covered in dust.
it's like being a leaf. i was once held up. attached to a strong oak. swaying in the breeze. but held. protected. then autumn came. and now. i float. alone. tossed this way and that. with no clear course. only the fear of landing.
i have no strength to steer.