Often I look back
and try to pinpoint the day,
the moment, I became
the type of person
who, when life is perfect,
waits with bated breath,
for the other shoe to drop.

Always, I hope
that bad times are not here to stay,
only to be disappointed
while bad slides to worse
with each passing day.

When did I become the fool
who believes that just because
night follows day,
and dawn lifts the shadows,
that when the going is good
something terrible is around the corner?

Has it ever been so
that life has served me
joy and grief in equal measure?

But still I wait
for the situation to change…
Unable to enjoy the good,
unfit to deal with the pain.
Stuck jumping through the hoops
of my hyperactive brain.