The Joker
It has been intense.
I could cry about it, which I did. I could laugh about it, which I did. I could curl up into a ball and wish I would disappear and I did that too – but I didn’t disappear. I try and tire myself out before I go to bed, hoping that that exhaustion would take away the dreams. It hurts to wake up in the mornings that usually begin with a sharp breath of panic whilst my brain tries to sort through layers and layers of assumed realities. Then I wake up and realise that I’ve been living in packs of lies and that really, the house of cards has already fallen down. The kings and queens, the broken hearts, the once glittering diamonds and yes those ruthless spades – they all lie flat on the ground and I’m somehow stomping on them whilst trying to avoid them. Only the joker stands laughing in a solitary corner, watching me in his jester hat and ringing his bell of warnings.
I take it one day at a time and I try and open my heart but ever day it’s such a battle. There seems to be a huge magnetic door and as much as I push against it, it manages to draw itself shut eventually. I pray and pray to the cosmos for the forgiveness that comes with grace and the trust that comes with love, but only sometimes is there is a semblance of respite. It never stays long enough. I am afraid, and that takes a lot to admit.
I will always have to remember to try and forget and I wish it wasn’t so. I just wish it didn’t hurt so goddamn much.
