It Monday-ed on me. I feel like I've been beaten up. I wish I had somebody I could come home to, curl up against, feel strong arms hold me. Is it weak to wish for this? Part of me thinks so... The warrior in me thinks I should pick myself up off the floor, wipe the blood and tears off my face and go on.
Sometimes, though, even the blade-wielding battle queen wishes there were an equal, a mate here at the end of days like this, days when I watch people walk off cliffs they'd have done better to avoid, days when I feel like I'm banging my head on the same big rocks to no useful end, days when the sun sets and I can't tell that any forward motion has been made at all, that anything I've done has made one scrap of difference to anybody. I have to say that it would be nice, really, really more than nice, to have that other around to balance me.
I don't know, really. Most of the time, I'm okay alone since it seems that this is my fate, this solitary path. It's just when the Mondays come that the alone seems too much to be asked to carry.
No comments:
Post a Comment
And then you said.....