The Piper's Due

Today I feel. Like my heart is a bird and my chest is a cage of bone. I feel like my heart is beating itself bloody against the wall of ribs and I’m gasping from the pain of it, but I cannot stop. Trapped. The word is trapped. I’m trapped as the world spins around and around, around me. Everything is too bright, too loud, too much. Don’t be stupid, you can’t write something like that. Someone is going to think you’re crazy…or at least more insane that they already think you are. Mom was right, you have to keep yourself to yourself, don’t bite, don’t be rude and no matter what…no matter what, don’t cry. Don’t let them see you cry.

Today I feel. Good. Good is a safe way to feel. It’s the thing you say when someone who is being friendly asks how you are, and you don’t want to get into the shambles that is your life at the moment. It’s a small way to feel, it’s understood. No one is really good, good is not a feeling like happy or sad. It’s not even really a status like well or sick. It’s one of those words that means nothing or perhaps it means I have nothing interesting to say at the moment so just leave me alone. Don’t worry Mama, I remember. Keep yourself to yourself, don’t bite someone’s head off for being polite, don’t be rude and make sure those eyes stay dry.

Today I feel. Restless. I’ve been staring at this stupid, blinking curser for ages, just watching it’s slow, rhythmic fade and return to existence. It makes me want to scream, to look away. I can’t look away. It’s too…captivating. It’s like all those things we do automatically to stay alive, we blink, we breathe, our heart beats. We don’t have to think about it. We don’t have to do anything except follow that rhythm lain out for us as birth. All that is fine, perfectly good, it’s the why that sticks in my head. Do we have purpose? Do we really mean anything? Are we really going through all this work of keeping ourselves alive for our contribution to society? Humanity? The future? Most people aren’t going to make the history books, we are going to live simple lives that have simple goals and simple…ends. Yes, yes. No one cares when I talk like this, I’ll keep it to myself. I’m not jumping down your throat, I know you’re only being polite. I’m sorry if you thought that was rude. No…no I wasn’t going to cry.

Today I feel. Okay. Maybe okay is one of those words like good that isn’t really a feeling or a status. Maybe it’s just one of those words that means something else when you tell someone that’s how you feel. It’s like one step below good, but in a way that’s more honest. You say you’re okay and sometimes people will ask you why. No one cares to say anything further if you’re good, but if you’re just okay there is some morbid curiosity there. Good is final, okay is an invitation. Ask me why. Ask me to talk about it. Keep yourself to yourself, choose your words carefully, be polite, and don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

Today I feel. Conflicted. It’s like there are two parts of my head at war with each other. The sun is shining today, bright and warm with the promise of summer. But there is this block of ice in my chest. It raises gooseflesh on my arms when my lips dare to twitch into a smile. Like being happy is somehow a betrayal. Like standing at the edge of the abys and not feeling the weight of it dragging at you is wrong. Like you are somehow walking away, like how? How can you just walk away? Those are all things to keep to yourself, bite your tounge, smile. Smile until your cheeks hurt. Don’t let them see you cry.

Today I feel. I guess that’s it really, I just feel. I feel as though I am simply existing today. I’m not happy or sad really. I’m just like this stupid blinking curser. I’m breathing, my heart is beating and the thoughts of the words going down on this page are floating through my brain a split second before my fingers can peck out the letters. I was thinking about time today, not so much in that it’s this force we cannot control, and have to struggle against every day, but rather like a river. Time as a river that flows strongly after it rains and slowly in a drought, but still flowing. You can’t get it back, but you always seem to have a little more coming down stream. Until I guess you don’t. Wasn’t it keeping all this to myself that got me in trouble in the first place? Is that rude? How can I say something like this politely anyway? When is it okay to cry? When is it okay to cry?

Today I feel. Something, something hard to explain. I was just thinking, thinking about time and the river and the blinking cursor. I was thinking about my beating, bleeding heart and how each breath isn’t so much agony as it is an ache. Maybe I can say it now, maybe I can actually allow myself to think the words I have been avoiding. Words can hurt you. Words can hurt you worse than driving needles into your flesh. Keep yourself to yourself. Don’t be rude. Be unfailingly polite. I tried. I tried to keep all this, this emotion…these thoughts…inside my chest. I felt them burning and crushing. I unlocked the cage, I set them free Mom. Are you mad? I’m sorry…I’m sorry. I was rude, I was selfish, and I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it. You know that don’t you? I think you do. I think you’d forgive me. I think you’d tell me that just this once, this once as your river becomes ashes spread on the wind, it’s okay to cry.