it begins like this:
i wake up, and i’m tired
not just the weight of my eyelids,
but the weight of everything i’ve ever been
and everything i’ve never been
i lie on the couch still,
cold beneath the blanket,
until i am begging myself to change my clothes
to eat anything to drink something
i eat ravioli i drink coffee

it continues like this:
i am easily annoyed, easily frustrated
and while this is not my usual state,
it is perfectly normal for my family;
the very moment that i am too compromised
to be the middle ground,
the ground itself is gone

continuing:
i say something that i mean
and it’s only an accident once i regret it
and because of that,
the car ride home is bumpy and uncomfortable
(when i left them for the bathroom,
i could feel them talking about me,
and in the rear view mirror, he’s watching me,
and i know that he thinks i’m a villain)

the engine of his car is so loud
that it feels like a bubble in my ears
and it makes me want to scream
and maybe punch something,
even though i’d never

i would like to go home
and go straight to sleep,
to go to sleep and wake up normal

and oh, did i mention?
tomorrow is christmas eve.
they always say
christmas doesn’t feel like christmas anymore
i tend to agree,
believing it doesn’t bother me,
but i always forget that the season not feeling like christmas
feels so much worse
when you know that it should.