bring the storm

there is something about me that enjoys this suffering, this sadness. it was in me as a child and it stays with me as an adult, hidden and pushed down. but never for too long. it rears its ugly head at me as if to say, "i am here, i am here, i am life, eternal life." your life.

what has prompted this shift, though? was it looking back at old entries from my teen years? is it the stress of finals? is it the metaphorical death of something i am unaware of? is there something unconscious going on? what need do i have that is not being met?

i read your description of me (probably over 10 years ago) and you said you would love me. always. just like that.

but no one really ever does. not like how you remembered it in the emotional memory of your youth. everyday i yearn to talk to you, just to feel connected to someone who understands me. because you always did, you were always the only one who did. knew me to my dark core. now all i have is a number i can't call and a screen who doesn't reply.

all i have is my short soy latte in an all-too-familiar environment, screaming that barista was you 10 years ago. it's all so funny, it's all so mundane.

my life is a tragedy, it always was. but it's something more too. i see that now. i just don't know what to do with myself. raw and out there for no one to see.

i just want to be seen. i want to be understood.

yeah, not much has changed.