Two days ago, I was screaming down the phone: "Pick yourself up, for God's sake. It is how it is, why do you cry about it all.the.time. You're sad. ALL. THE. TIME."
I have been screaming some variation of this, often, since approximately age 9.
Today, I caught a glimpse of reflection in my office window, crying. Again. Alongside all the beauty and joy, I too am sad. ALL. THE. TIME.
Some weeks (or months) it is closer to the surface. Other weeks, I am joyfully climbing the cliff I am shortly going to jump from.
And the only person who'd really understand this,
The person who has put pensiveness in my bloody cells,
Hung up on me two days ago (unsurprisingly) and hasn't rung me back.
So I texted today, and said sorry, Ma.