some things break your heart all the time
over and over again
like hail hitting the pavement or the steady click of a clock that ticks only when
some thing some where is cracking in two.
more than a dull ache, the hitting of your head against a wall
repetitive and methodical
the rituals that allow us to embody the hurting
the choice we have to make
(to step away
from things that we can't fix
We gather information from mistakes and we plant them in the garden
Little things like how quickly our mind spins after an accidentally seen instagram post
Or how likely we are to drive to milwaukee after three days that were meant to exist in a vacuum
Slowly we tell ourselves not to understand things others do as if we did them
(The way the podcasts our therapists told us to listen to advised us as we tried not to have an existential crises over the Atlantic Ocean because we did not want to try Xanax for the first time on a plane. Plus we still have trouble thinking we are the kind of person who would take a Xanax, though we revel in the high school coolness of the idea that if we wanted some, we could acquire it.)
I am not trying to be tongue in cheek. I am not trying to be cute
Or to write the poetry of every sad girl in Brooklyn even though sometimes I feel
Like every sad girl in Brooklyn and other times when I am far away
I berate myself for ever rolling my eyes at these sad girls
Want to celebrate their right to exist as a majority
Tell myself I should be thankful for the discomfort of being one among the many
In the same way my aunt told my cousin to finish all the food in his plate
How plentiful abundance looks in all its discomfort
when one has existed in scarcity
Even now I apologize for any profound statements. I am not trying to be artsy
To be funny I am just trying to say something, anything, that is true.
