On Days I Do Not Love Myself
On Days I Do Not Love Myself On days I do not love myself, grief shows up at my front door like an uninvited guest.It touches the walls of my apartment, disrupts the silence that once existed in its confines and tries to break into it. It sits through lunch with me and offers to buy me coffee. It won’t seem to go away and for some reason; I find myself being unable to say no. Suddenly, waffles don’t taste as good as they did. Coffee tasted a lot more bitter than it did yesterday. On days I do not love myself, a wounded heart carries itself inside my home. Like a soldier who just arrived from the battlefield. It tells me that there are wounds inside each one of us no one knows about. Some days, great stories of valor are born from it. Other days, there is the lingering trauma of the war that dwindles. I learned something that day. Loneliness comes after, making its presence known in the cold, flameless fireplace. Its presence is so prominent I can feel it crawl under my skin.