I catch myself

I sleep through the time I had set aside to spend with a friend I miss dearly. she is understanding and I catch myself as I often am at work: apologetic and in a frantic state of unrest as I try to find words to emphasise the weight of the disappointment of the error on my end. she spends the day fending for the joy and needs of three children she is raising, in a world that is impatient and in which I know she too often struggles to rationalise waking up to. I pack my bags to return to the life I keep in a room too small for the thoughts and ghosts I carry unchecked at the departure gate.

there is cheese and chocolate in the fridge. my friend cleans her face to brace the day after swearing we’d live and die alone in my room if we could. I catch myself crying as I spread peanut butter on her toast. in my house she is my home and I will not hold or see her until I return to crumble in a heap at the foot of another year. we try to predict what life might look like then, if we act on the changes we say we need to make, well aware of who and how we are as children in these shoes, incapable of seeing beyond now or doing what’s in our best interests.

the sad girl sings about somewhere in Germany and fear of God. I wind down the windows when she tells me to as I fly down the highway. she screams and I join in until my voice is gone. tomorrow I’ll wake to another week of more and nothing will have changed. there will always be ghosts in my dreams and words I can’t say. I will read the news tonight and tell myself to picture them happy.