A Sad Collection Of Words

I really don’t have anything important to say tonight

Nothing funny or witty

Nothing insightful or heartfelt

Nothing lonely or human

I am honestly just bored

And okay,

maybe lonely…

But,

I don’t want to write about being lonely or bored.

But nothing stirs up

Just a stale Sunday

staring at white walls

Another repeating pattern

Of minutes

And hours

And days

And months

Repeating

Over and over

While working a job

Just to pay bills

And hardly making anymore money then that

All while barely getting enough sleep

Or so it always feels

With a body that always aches

And I’m only 30

But really

still 29

Just rounding up

The neck

The back

The hamstring

The shoulder

The bicep

The hands

The thumbs

The forearm

The feet

They all ache

I’ve broken or torn them all

And the pattern repeats

With a decaying body

And a lonely soul...

Another one of them said to me,

‘I read your writing. It’s so sad.’

I protested,

‘Not all of them are!!’

I don’t mean it

Truly

I am not what I complain about.

I am more optimistic than I let on!!

I have romanticized my own negative feelings

And I've romanticized

Drugs

And alcohol

And sex

And meaning

And death

And the mundane air of life

And so much more

Just to have something to write about

Just to express a little

I’ve taken a spark

And made it a flame

Then I sat back

And watched that flame grow

And dance

And destroy

I can feel the heat on my face

As I think about the image I've created through my writing

What a load of shit some of it has been

But then again,

A few others bare my soul…

My heart and mind are buried in those words in some way

And something about that

is pretty neat to me

Today was just a day where I longed for someone to love on

And had no one

And those days lead to a sad collection of words

It is all just a symptom of a broken heart.

-C.H.