Crawl with Me?

I crawl in and out. The tremendous potential of today scares me. You’d never guess the half of what goes on in my mind. I have to turn away so that you don’t see me smile. It hurts so bad. Not that I was expecting very much else. Routine. Drab. Secure. Sometimes I want someone, anyone to reach out and shake me out of this complacency. Burnt toast and bad coffee. I wish those days were back. I used to spend hours staring up at the ceiling in between exercising. I lost count so long ago. There were all these things I used to share with myself. Silly stuff. The way those little pink flowers used to feel when I rubbed them between my thumb and forefinger. I guess that doesn’t make me an environmentalist’s delight, but I spent hours rubbing them into nothingness. Things were so simple back then. I was walking through a dream and I knew it. Sun-kissed brick walls. Snuggling under the covers on cold nights. Bad movies, good movies. It didn’t matter. I always ended up crying anyway. Reaching up on tip toe to catch a glimple of my tooth-brush wielding self in the mirror. Creature at the door. Hot chocolate and messy fingers. I miss waking up and wanting to dress up. For me. I miss the Main Cor. Half-suffocated in the Metro rush, Charis and I would hold our freshly shampooed hair close and inhale deeply. Showers were smaller, but stronger. Warm water rushing down my face, I didn’t realize when the tears started. Photograph-like moments whizzed past me. It was all there. Almost like the end of a sad movie. I want to press pause when the credits start to unfurl and snigger down at me. It was all then. All of that and so much more. And yet it isn’t enough. I’ll still go to bed in a dark room tonight. Coffee after coffee after coffee. Forced movies and conversations. Just to stay awake that little longer. Just to keep tomorrow a few minutes away. They all know I’m dying deep inside. I’m sorry. I hate the memories which aren’t mine.