I haven’t felt any true emotion for months.
I’ve been numb.
Very little sadness, guilt, fear, happiness, anger, love, contentment.
I’ve made brash decisions that I wouldn’t usually make because I have lost whatever emotion it is that stops you.
But just now, tonight, as I lay awake in these quiet lonely secret moments, I feel a black poison inside of me.
It’s bubbling in my chest, previously caged by my ribs, now boiling over. Leaking into my veins, spilling into my organs, spreading to my finger tips.
I’m not angry at you.
I’m not angry at cancer.
I am angry that people I love are left behind.
I am angry that my loved ones are feeling this so deeply and profoundly.
I am angry that you will miss out on ever so much.
I am angry.
It’s a horrible and overwhelming emotion that I very rarely get to feel.
I have never been truly angry, not like this.
Sometimes I look or sound angry, but I’m not. It’s just a translucent misting on the surface.
Not like this.
This is a thick tar, clogging up other feelings,
I hope the joyful bubbles in life will be able to dilute this feeling.
But right now. It’s new and it’s scary.
I am the ultimate optimist.
I am ‘little Miss Sunshine’
But not tonight.
And that’s okay,