Alright

by natprance

Alright. I love the way the lights flicker in my kitchen. Makes me feel like I’m not the only thing in this house wavering and teetering on the edge. It makes me feel like I’ve got a partner. Like we’re the only things holding the other back from bursting and just laying into ourselves.

I love the way that the tea bag of sleepy-time chamomile and mint and cinnamon and hibiscus and just a little sprinkle of peppermint sags and bobs and drowns itself in my cup of steaming hot water. I love the way that it looks defeated and worn when it’s done steeping. It knows how much I hate it, not because of what it is (there is nothing finer than a good cup of tea, even if it comes from a single vacuum-sealed bag), but because of how relaxing it is. It knows how I thrive on that rage, and it knows how ashamed I am of the difficulty I have bringing it in check. I love the way it sits, soaked and leaking, next to its dried out brown brothers on the plates I’ve neglected to wash.

I love the way that my inner monologue snarls and growls at everything it finds contemptible, which is everything. There is something immensely satisfying about the grimace I wear in my mind when I think about fame or fortune or happiness or sadness or wealth or war or growing old and dying peacefully in my sleep or taking my pills and feeling good about myself. There is something thoroughly pleasing about picturing myself as a starved hyena pacing back and forth in my cage until I fall down and the clatter of my ribs against the bars makes everyone wince. There is something powerful about telling myself that I am not weak, I am just ill and weary and hungry.

I hate the way I love my anger. I hate that I revel in thoughts of violence and rage before catching myself and weeping into my pillows. I hate that I have pills that I need to carry with me as a security blanket. I hate being lucid and sober enough to understand how unpleasant this all is, and I hate being drunk or high enough to forget that I can’t just act the way I want. I hate how long it took me to complete this paragraph because I don’t want to make you worry about me or you or anyone. Nobody is in danger. But I’m definitely in trouble.

Now I’ve finished my tea and my eyes are getting heavy and wet and the tears are coming soon and I can drain myself into my pillow and fall asleep. I can fall asleep and have beautiful incredible delicious amazing dreams where I don’t fear or angry or sad or rage or confusion or wanting. It’s just existing without mattering.