When I was eight I would fall asleep in the corners of my house often left alone because I felt my bed was the reason I could not sleep I felt like it knew I wasn't worthy of the pillow or my sheets or the cascade of sunbeams that would fall on my face in the morning just like they do now
I would walk around the house empty and creaking and I would walk into the kitchen and hold a knife to my stomach with my reflection in the granite counter top and I would wonder why I felt that it was often better to die than try to deal with my mind numbing nothings and the questions they posed
I didn't know yet people took their lives. That people felt these things sometimes they had clouds that would hang over heads sometimes for months I hadn't felt a loss but still I knew this ride only had a one way track and I wanted off
It's heavy to feel the heat that runs through my blood when I'm behind the wheel of a car or walking over a bridge it's difficult to always see ledges without safety fences and concrete columns and not really understand why the mineral mounds in my brain just aren't stacked the same as Bill or Jane Because I've always known this one track train to not have a definitive escape just a one way ticket and only one lane
It's heavy to always see ledges without safety fences and find some calm some comfort in that.