I can feel the roots of the tree in my front yard rotting -
they’re twisting and turning –
they are strangling one-another violently and quickly
I can almost hear their suffering and torment -
This is happening several inches beneath my well-manicured front lawn –
so the neighbors cannot see the blackening of the roots –
I’m wearing a tailored Hugo Boss polo – it’s a beautiful cerulean blue (not exactly sky-blue, but close)
- and Armani shorts – they’re tan – perfectly tan, like the shade of tan that goes well with blue
My neighbor (across the street) walks to her car, smiles, and waves
I grin widely as I shout across (the street) “Have a good day”
I wear designer clothes when I’m sad – when the day is not treating me as smoothly as it could –
Days have feelings too – and they cannot always be happy
I said goodbye to him last night (yeah – the guy I’ve been seeing) –
I said goodbye to him forever –
He is not dead – he’s just not good for me –
So, I said “goodbye”
My psychologist tells me there will be bad days – but I don’t like them –
I don’t like them at all
I don’t want to be masquerading in designer wear as the roots several inches beneath my shoes are rotting.
It feels false. It feels fake.
And I do it very well
I turn to look at the front of my house – and see paint flaking off – in real time (like nature is on fast-forward – what is going on here?)
The paint didn’t flake while he and I were dating –
I painted my magnificent house with fresh paint every day (with brilliant and sparkling jewel tones) –
and I wore casual clothes because I didn’t need to make myself feel better –
because I felt fine and thought I might have been discovering “love” –
I’m still not sure of its definition,
but I know the concept makes me smile – and not in a fake or untruthful way
The weather broadcaster did not predict rain – and I am not ready for it –
Mentally – and I have no umbrella…
The dark clouds (though not overly heavy with blackness) are approaching as I stand on my lawn – listening to the roots beneath my feet twist among themselves and rot
- and I’m watching the house paint flake onto the well-manicured lawn below
“No”, I say aloud.
- and the paint stops flaking off the house, the roots become still, and the dark clouds slowly begin to move in a different direction – away from me
“No”, I say aloud, again – and a bit more forcefully
I’m going to have a not-so-great day – that’s normal when you split from someone you care about –
But I’m not going to drown,
I’m not going to be sucked into a hole of depression,
and I will not re-embrace and whisper into the loving ear of suicide-ideation -
I’m just not going to do it
Everything must remain still, be calm and be (mostly) quiet
– no tornados or otherwise strong winds,
no ground shakes,
and no extra therapy appointments – this is important
I’ve survived tragedy – and this isn’t it
I need to keep this in perspective
I might cry a little… and that’s okay –
I’m going to allow myself to do that
I might cry a little…
And that’s okay
Photo: Jimmy Broccoli
