Three Years and A Day
I haven't gone outside.
I don't want to face pain anymore and I've forgotten what my favorite thing in the world felt like. Sometimes inspiration will strike. I'll chock it back down and be left in my windowless room shuddering because without that I'm nothing.
But I've never felt loss in three years, never hurt and never sadness.
Never love.
(In three years.)
(But that was three years ago and I've managed to convince myself I don't anymore.)
(I lie to myself a lot recently. It's easier.)
I'm up late and the lake that I can't see under the snow is making me distracted. I'm supposed to be in bed because I'm up much too late and it's giving me ideas I shouldn't have because…
Because I used to not even consider sleeping before eleven o'clock and now it has to be before ten.
Because it's three years to the day and in five minutes three years ago I was condemned to a life of this.
Outside is really cold.
Inside is worse.