Its always this time of year. Or maybe its just this town. Or maybe its both. Its so hard. I’m tired of hard.
I try to focus on the good things in life. I have a wonderful family, I have a job, which is a blessing during this pandemic, I have friends, I have love, I’m able to use my words to express myself. I have joy, it’s there even if sometimes it’s hard to find.
But there’s a dark cloud hanging over me, it’s always there, even if I don’t always know it’s there. Sometimes I can ignore it, sometimes I forget, sometimes I can pretend. It’s just this time of year, the secrets are so close to spilling from my lips, they want to be spilled, they are too hard to hold in this time of year. But I am afraid to say them aloud. I’m afraid of speaking my truth, I don’t want to hear it anymore, I don’t want to think about it, I want to pretend it never happened.
I want to be happy.
I don’t think I can ever be happy during this time of year, in this town, while I’m clinging to these secrets. I don’t think happiness exists here but I don’t know where else to find it. It’s not in writing, it’s not in friendships, it’s not in hard work and being able to say I have a home, I have health, I have love. Happiness is not there. But where is it?
For me it’s in forbidden things, in the burn that comes with pretty smoke designs, in amber drops that are antiseptic, things I should not want and do not need but that chase the hurt away nonetheless. I don’t want it to be like this and I fight it every day, but it’s hard and I am tired.
I hate October. I hate November. I hate the hurt it brings. I want to destroy something. Sometimes I dream about filling my garage with glass vases of all shapes and sizes and designs, crystal, glass, ceramic, and smashing them to pieces, smashing them and crying because there’s beauty in destruction, it allows for rebirth, in the possibility of new beauty, and I want to feel the beauty inside, not my own beauty, but the beauty the world has to offer, that it already contains. But right now I cannot feel that.