I rather despise it. More often than not, I think it tries too hard.
But then this poem came out of me this afternoon.
I’m not gonna lie to you. Mrs. Smith is going through some shit. Deep inner conflict you wouldn’t want to keep up with.
But I miss you guys.
So at the risk of looking weak and pathetic, I’ve decided to share this poem in case you ever start to doubt that people are without complexity or flaws.
Big love to you all.
A Case of the Now-Whats?
I woke up this morning with a case of the Now-Whats?
Symptoms: Weak in confidence, ravenous for identity.
So I won’t leave this bed until I recognize a glimpse of myself in this feverish haze.
Last week it was a serious bout of the What-Ifs?–this having only just recovered from a run of the Why-Nots?.
Lately, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to live without a syndrome.
Doctor says some people suffer their whole lives from the Now-Whats?.
So now what I’m focusing on is getting better.
But this plague shows no sign of leaving,
Must these Now-Whats? stubbornly run their course…
Or do they require a stronger medicine?
This squishy chair in this dark room has brought relief so far.
Staring out the moonlit window, like I’ve wanted to be here all along,
fully feeling life’s Whats, hungrily sucking in the breathing room allowed by the stillness.
Now I will stay in this chair.
Letting this dark, silent medicine run its course.