could it be that i'm only exasperated?

There are days like these: when I feel like crumpling myself into a ball and rolling under my bed. When I want to sink to the bottom of the ceramic floor; when I don't want to talk, I just want to listen. Sing me a lullaby and I'll lay here, perfectly still, my head on your shoulder, my heart on your lap,
drifting, drifting, and drift—

Things are happening. I'm thinking entirely too much, lately. I'm thinking so much, talking so much, asking so much, listening so much that I don't know what's what anymore. I don't know which are my thoughts or your thoughts or his thoughts... I don't know if what I believe in is what I want to believe in...or what I'm really supposed to believe in.

I used to believe in things. They were like little marbles I'd keep in my pocket and I could just slip my hand inside and swirl them around and hear them make sounds, and I know, know what it all meant. But now…

This thinking, this feeling, this wondering it's wearing me out.

I want to be angry. It looks so much easier to be angry. Shout at the top of your lungs, wave your arms in the air, slam a couple doors, break a few things and then storm the hell out of there and be done with it. Goodbye, I hate you, goodbye. I want to be angry, but I'm just poignant.

And it's not just one thing. Don't think it's just one thing, because it's not. There's so much and it can be vexing. It's settling, like dust on a shelf. I try to wipe it away, but it floats back into the air only to land in the same spot. Things I haven't thought about in years, things I forgot have ever happened; things I want to pretend don't exist. Dealing with these. Being adult about it. Growing up already. I should, I really should, but...

Not now. Not today. Today, I am going to stop talking. I am not going to think. I am not going to wonder. I am not even going to hope.

Whisper a sweet something in my ear and tell me it will be okay. Tell me I'll be fine, and I will believe you.