On Saturday morning I woke up on my friends’ couch, very hungover, to the news that my old lady neighbour had passed away. On Sunday morning I woke up way too early on a Sunday morning to attend a workshop entitled Poetry as Ferocity which ended up taking me to some unresolved cobwebs in my otherwise not-so-horrible cupboard. This morning I woke up and attended the funeral of “granny” as I fondly called her and maybe it was the funeral, or the fact that I couldn’t get out of bed on Monday or that I dreamt a song from a play I was in 4 months ago that sings of crossing over, or the fact that my dog was barking at “nothing” at some ungodly hour this morning, but I need a safe space to be somewhat gloomy right now. And as I type this I imagine I’m creating that space on this page not just for me but whoever reads this and needs a moment to be fucking true to the bad thoughts or emotions that you’ve been hiding with Instagram selfies and troll tweets and memes and feigned excitement in a comment under a friend’s post.
I am not okay. I don’t know that I’ll ever be okay. And in this moment, on this page, I’m relieved that no one is telling me “Don’t worry.” or “What’s wrong?” or “You okay?”, that no one is trying to fix anything or say “Move on”, “Keep going”. In this moment, I’d like to give myself permission to not be okay and not feel guilty about that.
I owe no one a smile and neither do you.