When will I be alone to sense the horrible feeling of loneliness,
that loneliness I dread to feel, but know that I must feel it.
Like an omen of things to come, I look at my reflection,
gaze into my own eyes and see nothing looking back.
I do ‘feel’, I swear it is true,
but from the description of other’s feelings I wonder if I really do.
I do not like the movies other girls like
nor desire more children nor long for grandchildren.
I do not want another pet to miss when it dies
and this yearning to rekindle sibling relations grows dim and false in feeling.
I will miss my mother terribly when she is gone but not so much my father;
And I love my son the most and dare not imagine his demise.
Much like a slap in the face, my feelings come on strong and wash over me.
Tidal wave after tidal wave for what seems forever,
though truthfully perhaps only an hour.
And then they vanish again for months on end hiding from me,
waiting for their moment to catch me off guard
and send me to my knees in tears I hide from others, most of all myself.
So when I say I am indifferent to so much that others care so much about,
it is not that I do not care, it is that I care differently.
For if I spread my feelings too thin
and give a damn about every last thing,
I will not have enough for those that matter most
nor enough tears to shed when tears are needed.
Written May 20, 2012