I Would Rather Be In Bed

Perspective is only ever clear to one. Once handed out it tends to get smudged and sullied with every set of grimy hands it gets pushed through. Currently though, as we view everything though Canada’s smoke filled haze it all seems a little grimy, am I right?

Tears drip silently down my face as I force a spatula through the ground beef I’m breaking apart in a pan. For two solid years I was medicated beyond having emotions and now, I’m struggling to navigate them again and often I struggle through them quietly, alone. I feel like I spend most of my time that way these days, perhaps that’s a large amount of the problem.

Almost as if I can feel each chamber of my heart beat separately, I feel each emotion swish around and wonder if each of them will ultimately break me or save me.

Sadness and fear and loneliness all tangled up together in a messy topknot on the top of my head, causing pressure and headaches and just so wrapped up within each other, I can’t tell one from the other. The what if’s compile on top of the yeah but’s and then together they pull tight with if you never try you’ll never know. Then again though, if you try and fail you should have known. They all wrap around and around and around just like the thoughts in my head until the ache is too much to bear…and the tears fall…in frustration and aching sadness.

Anger and regret and sorrow lance through my nervous system like a fire breathing dragon. Lighting up my nerve endings, keeping my muscles tense and on edge alert for the need to retreat. Sorrow and regret constantly fighting back saying no, no, please…rest, wait. Be calm. Remember, remember last time. Anger says yes, I remember the pain of last time, and I guard against it. Regret says, also remember the pain you caused last time and breathe. Sorrow weeps for both. Both fight valiant battles, but really who ever wins.

Hope sits like a quiet respite, waiting to swell. A tiny kernel of sand resting in the heart. Innocuous until called upon and then grows and grows, almost painfully with joy and love and peace and looks forward with intent and purpose. However, can also be burst like a bubble quickly, and as it shrinks the pain is acute and sometimes unending. The true physical manifestation of heartache.

I recently read a book about a futuristic setting where humans had something called nanites that controlled healing and pain and emotions and such. I like to think of my emotions now as my little nanites and its strange how just the right or wrong combination or words or deeds can activate the nanites in any combination of ways. I think people like to think they have some measure of control over their nanites but really, they kind of do come programed by the life they’ve lived.

Today though, as I don’t understand these tears running down my cheeks, I close my eyes and try to imagine those little hope nanites growing and growing and never letting them shrink again. I want hope to bloom and bloom forever and to have my face warm in the sun where sorrow can’t find me and anger and regret are too sleepy to get up. I want to undo the messy topknot on my head and run my fingers through it, chasing away all the tangles and know they can’t come back again.

I want those little hope and love and peace and happiness nanites to fill me all the way up, to where nothing else has room.

And I want to do it…with you.

But maybe…hopes little nanites are sliding down my cheeks today, they’re just so full they’re leaking out…

I guess it’s all about perspective. When the lenses are dirty, it’s hard to tell.

Maybe you could clean them off for me?