I want to start by apologizing.
I realize that it’s ridiculous.
Ridiculous that the rain always seems to make me feel as though the drops must be the hope in my life, falling from God’s grace, to be mixed with the shit on the road and run over by my tires.
Ridiculous that I become a walking question mark, italicized backwards to be always downward-sloping, always a singer of sad songs, a crier of loud tears.
Ridiculously frizzy of hair and short of patience.
and so far from above ridicule from me and myself
(as I sit snickering in a corner… any corner… all corners…)
But it is truly so terribly real in those moments
I really do hurt like a hangnail,
like a limping sprained ankle,
like hair pulled during the deepest of headaches.
that I don’t actually want you to leave me alone.
Despite how sharply I prick you when you ask to help,
how wildly my arms flail when you look at me in that tone of voice,
And how many times I insist loudly that I am strong,
that I can handle me.
It’s dark, it’s cold, and I want you to hold me, whoever you are, and let me have my moment.