I feel the self pitiying words bubbling to the surface like sulphurous bile and I clamp my jaws closed. There is no room for this pathetic, half-existence the world is creating for me. There is no room for pain.
I refuse to be a teary eyed mess of emotions and way ward hormones. I will be happy. Or I will be strong. If I can be, both. But nothing short of amazing will I be.
I stand at a crossing. Entwined hands and a thoughtless kiss on the forehead stand ahead of me. I find my direction changed. I walk on.
A text about a dress, a call about a venue; A wedding is coming like a storm in the distance. A night of laughter, love and happiness for most. A shadow of dread on my back, but I look ahead. Strong. Working up the courage over the next three months to stand there and smile at their happiness. While mine wilts in the oppressive heat of the summer.
But this summer is turning out to be more bone numbing cold than oppressive heat.
I go from overjoyed and laughing to sombre and thoughtful as I leave 347 Congress Street each night. The further I walk the cooler it gets. Till I’m drenched in the wet cold mist outside my house, like being nestled in a blanket made of ice. The inside offers some solace from the alone emptiness. But not much. It is empty. No human or non human face meets me as I enter. Just the warm familiarity of myself, my own, home.
It all sounds so terrible. But I’m fine.
These moods only last as long as a mood can last. The next one comes along soon enough. It’s hope, or wishful thinking I don’t know. But it comes and the world brightens.
I fight off bitterness and anger like a hero fights a monster; the Light fights the dark. I refuse to be anything short of amazing. I refuse to let circumstance change me. I refuse to let my hopeful, joyful outlook on life struggle free of me. Look at me. I’m always happy. Because though the fight wages on the light is winning.