Gravity

All I feel is fatigue. And every morning I wake up tired, I am terrified. Because I see his shadows in the blinds, in the glare off the mirror, the space between the lines of the work I am supposed to do but do not. I feel his fog burrowing into the folds of my mind, calcifying, spreading, eating away at the fibers in my back. I lay enveloped in his familiar scent on the pillow I had only just washed. I wash it again. And in the mornings, he cradles my face in his hands and pulls me back. Escape in to me, he says. I force my eyes open and his figure is only smoke. I tell myself that he is not back. It’s all in my head. Of course it is. I put on earrings so large it hurts to lay down. I tell my body to do what it is supposed to. This is not the time for this. He is not back. Maybe he never left.

The momentum I felt a week ago is gone. The person I was has left. This one now is familiar for all of the wrong reasons. And I feel sickly. Even now as I write I feel him calling for me. Not by name, but by my entire essence he draws me towards him. And that isn’t even what bothers me most. It’s that I can’t figure out what changed. It’s like I got through all of my books and then a part of me just gave up despite there being way more work to do. So now I have to go and get my shit back together again.

Today I have to go see boy play his concert at Carnegie. As you can probably sense from the wording, I don’t really want to. Surprisingly, my mind hasn’t changed. I don’t know if it’s his bland food or living in Harlem or constant text pigeon games or lack of a future or inability to do math but I just don’t know what the fuck I am doing. Yeah, it’s definitely that last one. It was more fun when I got to idealize him. Fucking classic. And I feel guilty because he’s nice and pretty and texts every day and asks how I’m doing and offers to do nice things and a little nubbin of my mind wonders if I’m that girl that ends up liking people who treat her poorly. And then that guilt turns into a little bit of self loathing and fear. I could do worse. You could do far better. Roe says I need a finance guy. Someone who can grind and balance out my own laziness. Someone who will help push me towards that future that I once saw for myself. I think I’ve forgotten what ambition feels like.

I haven’t been going into work on account of my body and mind betraying me. But maybe it’s for the best and I can use this time to study, which I haven’t exactly. But this is the rebuilding. It’s time to be grounded. To feel alive. To focus on everything else that is happening outside of this haunted world of my own. After all, it is all only in my mind. Right?