Thursday Thoughts: Soon enough

I have another original poem to share today! I wrote this on Sunday as a way to process some of my own anxious thoughts, and I think it bears noting that I'm feeling substantially less anxious now than I was when I wrote this. But regardless, here's my poem, "Soon enough":

********************

I love to tell myself

that I’m in touch with my emotions,

that I haven't stuffed my feelings so far down

that I don’t know what I want

or how to get there.

But emotions are slippery.

One day, you’ve caught them,

shaped and sculpted them into what you need,

but then they slip away

and hide behind you,

and when you turn to catch them,

they dash away again

and envelop the whole sky behind you,

and even as they’re out of sight,

you wonder where that shadow cast before you has come from.

Maybe as I write this,

I'll find the clouds casting that shadow.

Soon enough,

everything will be back to normal

except that nothing’s changed at all,

and those hours spent with my eyes spread out

against that flat, glowing screen

will become hours spent with a shot and a mask

as my sole protectors

against a demise created and nurtured by those I love,

those I thought might overcome their fears,

those I know were given a mission

and they failed.

Will I have enough armor

to spend hours,

second to second,

in the battlefield?

Soon enough,

I’ll have to sit down at my keyboard and decide

if it’s more stressful to be writing poorly

or not writing at all.

Soon enough,

I’ll speak at a meeting

and say perfectly normal things

just like everyone else,

but only my heart will be beating so hard

I can feel it.

Soon enough,

I’ll sleep again

and maybe have another nightmare

that means something,

but I won’t know what.

Will I ever know

which is real,

the quietly rattled pacing of the day

or the roiling, ephemeral dreamworld of the night

and which I’d rather be my reality

if I got to choose?

I’d at least like to know

what I’m so afraid of.

Butterflies in your stomach is a strange feeling.

Your stomach feels like it’s floating,

flying away,

but not peacefully.

It’s all you can feel,

and your feet won’t touch the ground,

and that tinge inside seems like it could spread

and swallow you whole.

They tell you to be mindful,

to stay in the moment,

but my empty mind from yesterday wasn’t blissful

or at peace.

I roamed and paced,

vacant

and hunched

with my mind’s blank canvas of potential

kneeling down,

shivering in a corner.

Sometimes I try to think rationally.

But it’s like arguing about the vaccine.

You tell them the truth,

and they nod along and ignore you

and nothing changes.

Yesterday I was angry,

and I wasn’t sure why.

I wanted to snap, to scream,

to sob

and let my feelings swell and swell

until they burst.

When will I finally be freed

from those teenage emotions

that control me

and not the other way around?

I don’t have the answers today.

I just have a dry mouth

and a foot I’m bouncing up and down

and eyelashes that burn with exhaustion.

It’s all coming,

and I’ll get through it—

I always do—

but it’s days like these

when I wish it was just

a little bit easier.

I just hope

that if these fears have to boil over

as the kettle screeches,

that they can consume this page

and make something worthwhile

instead of taking over my mind

and leaving nothing but a dull buzz

as I lean my head on my hands.

********************

That's what I've got for today! And it also bears noting: that stanza about whether it's more stressful to be writing poorly or not at all is one I ultimately made a decision on—I decided to start writing a new short story, regardless of how bad it may be at first. Stay tuned for some less-angsty blog posts this next Monday and Thursday!