Breathe, I tell myself: in, out, in out.
But it doesn’t work.
My jaw tightens and I scream…
on the inside.
It’s been years in the making, two and half to be exact.
April 2014.
I spin around forcing my body to shake it off:
the frustration,
the jealousy,
dark thoughts
of inadequacy.
But it sticks to me:
a gooey,
stretchy film
of
disappointment
awakening at the sight of–
at the sound of–
Just grin and bare it,
I tell myself.
So I fain excitement;
act as if I am
and
maybe
I
will
be.
