I lost my sparkle and I cannot find it anymore. Despite this elegant facade, there is a certain kind of sadness that hovers above and beyond and the soft breaking of my tired heart cannot be heard against the whispers of the cobwebs and brown oaks that grow around my pillows. The past month was an entire struggle, not of my undoing but circumstances brought me to it. I was once again face to face with my worst nightmare and yes, it smiled at me darkly and intently.
The confines of my bed was my sole solace and I spent most of my waking hours counting imaginary lines in my ceiling and having a one sided conversation with my alter ego. I don’t want to be associated with anyone, I want to dive in my covers and let the sun shine and set without my knowing. Broken clocks gave me comfort and unanswered phone calls and voice mails aged without me glancing a bit. I would sometimes find myself curled up in the cold tiled floor, the shivers running down my spine was a pledge that I am still alive and breathing and I would wish the opposite. My will to live and to die was a pendulum dancing on the beat of a string quartet.
Then I would snap out of my reverie. I despise when reality hit me and bring me to the present and what I am and who I was. I would slowly mask the cries of my insanity with an aura of bravura and go on with what life has to haul at me with smugness and passion and the will to make things right in spite of the cries of cowardice and white flags in my wake.
