How rare and beautiful it truly is, that we exist
– Sleeping at Last, “Saturn”
I lie there, staring at my screen. I’ve applied for the jobs that I feel I might be able to do. Now, it’s a waiting game. And a hope-and-pray game.
I turn on my back, unemployed, lacking purpose, staring at the ceiling. Beige. White. Blank, save for the spinning blades of the fan as it lazily turns above my head. I wonder what it’s like to have purpose, to truly know what you’re meant to do. I wonder what it’s like to be able to smile, and not think, and be fine, and I wonder if I’ve missed out on my chance to find that happiness for me. I turn on my side, back facing the window, the Sun, and I feel a single tear start to roll, hiding my face in my pillow, embarrassed, and ashamed.
If there were any, I’d ignore the texts, I’d purposefully miss the calls.
I wonder how others handle days when they’re like this. I know, instinctively, that they have days like this. Surely they do. I can’t be alone here. I just can’t. I feel tears start to roll just thinking, and it’s so loud. It’s so loud that I can barely hear my crying over the noise in my head. It’s so loud I barely hear the war between head and heart, how neither can reconcile the other.
I want to believe I have a purpose. I want to believe that I will find my happiness, and that it isn’t too late for me. That I have a chance to be okay. I distract, I try to find something vibrant enough to dull out the noise, to put up a wall that I willingly stand behind. Anything to just protect me from what was out there, including myself.
I listen to the song above, I listen to the lyrics. I cry.
I want to find that beauty in existence. I want to find that soft space where I am not crying or wondering how I got myself into this spot.
I wipe my eyes. I cry some more. And I hope.