the moment

Sleep eludes me. My eyes close for a moment, only to snap open as my body shoots upright, heart pounding, sharp pain in my chest. I inhale deeply, taking in as much as I can, wanting to breathe. I think of the man I love, the only one who has been able to calm me. I put him on a shelf in the recesses of my mind,  tucked away in my memories. I know I shouldn't think of him, know I shouldn't write of him here, but there is so much pain closing in on me, like dirt shoveled on a fresh grave that I can't help but miss him. I should avoid stress, find someone to talk to, exercise and get plenty of sleep or so that's what the wellness counselors say. I wonder if they know how condescending they sound?

I am meeting a friend in a couple of hours at the pond because she needs someone to walk with her. I do not get the best workout, but I feel like I am helping her get back onto the road to wellness. I figure if I help enough people then I can ignore my own issues. It is pretty much how I got through my mother's death. I threw myself into working three jobs. I helped at soup kitchens, Habitats for Humanity, Big Sisters - I just never stopped moving.

I am not sure that will work for me this time though. I am just worn down, eroded like a river bed. I look in the mirror and see my dark eyes. I wish I had his reassuring arms to hold me. I know I shouldn't say it or want it, but I feel it at the moment. That is all I can live in right now, the moment.