I must be an optimist. Life just hits me in the head with a bat day after day, sometimes a day or so in between but then, WHAK! another day, another bat. I try to maintain that attitude of gratitude. “Thank you, God, so very much for that bat to the head.” Thank you, thank you, thank you. And I choose to do it again, day after day after day with that glimmer of hope that it might one day feel a little different another day.
Why do I try so hard?
Why do I feel I have to?
Who actually cares?
Why does it matter?
What difference does *any* of it make?
What if I didn’t?
Who cares if I eat Goldfish crackers for dinner?
I know you’re still with me, I know you haven’t really died. So what is the point of this exercise in pretending you have? Why do I have to continue eating Goldfish crackers as if you never left? Why won’t you show yourself again and eat them with me? Show me a goldfish…
I sit on our park bench alone with the ducks. I adore the empty sight of it each time I drive by and crave the company of *anything* sincere. Of course, you’re there. You’re there as much as you’re anywhere and it’s comforting as much as it can be to an earthbound human being. My human heart will simply never get it.
My human heart will simply always bleed.
…and when I die of a broken human heart, no one will be surprised.