Post-insert holiday word-Blues

By Gabriel Ricard

I'm driving on what seems to be a broken wheel. A record amount of time has passed and I've somehow kept it all together. The bad scratch on the last good part of the window, I didn't think I'd survive, especially without you there. Keeping the hands steady, proving there was an end result. A reason for ignoring the pre plans towards hurting others, bringing scars to life and turn them to mouths showing no particular emotion which makes sense don't you think? Now you only smile, at the start of every god damn journey, and assure me I can make it on my own.

And somehow I always do, I'm trying to convince myself it has nothing to do with me.

I've never been able to accept anything but the selfish motives for hating myself, so to try to save myself without any help won't work for me. I can't do it, won't really, you should understand but you don't. You tell me it's time to fend for myself, I can crawl as well as the rest of the world can so why should I be special?

You're fond of that last part. Telling me over and over again like a piece of the sky I saw a few years ago and have placed in every upwards glance since then.

I honestly don't know what to accept. I could opt for continuing to force the cold down my throat, to keep the important parts of me bitter enough to pray for an end or, I could try it your way. Focus your patience into something without lines to divide it and make it too confusing to consider seriously.

I think I can live either way, I know a thousand ways to bail out though none of them have worked for people I've read about.

The rain is getting stronger and I swear I had asked specifically for snow.