Calliope

 Being in the grocery store when you're sad feels like you're on another planet. There are so many people wandering the aisles, all in the own heads, living in their own realities. Like me. The lights are too bright and I can hear my broken heart beating louder than the instrumental ABBA from the ceiling. No, I don't feel like dancing. I just want some raisin bran. And a decent melon. I can't be here anymore. It doesn't have to be decent; I'll settle for edible. I can't be here anymore. Ok fuck it. They have no melons. I can't be here anymore. Or the raisin bran I like. Extra scoops. I can't be here anymore.  I start to cry. I leave my basket in the open shipping box of oranges and leave by the nearest exit.  Fuck it. I'll have peanut butter and jelly. Again.

  This is your reminder to be kind. It costs you nothing but time. Who are you without your failures? Don’t act like you’ve never needed the kindness of others. Don’t say you’ll pray for me; I don’t need your prayers. At the end of the day, I know where I’m going and it doesn’t disturb me. I live in the here and now. I know how to forgive you your trespasses, but how do I forgive myself for the things I never became? I haven’t got time left to worry about the past. You said I should be grateful for what I have. I shouldn’t want what I haven’t got. And the thing about honey drawing more flies than vinegar, mother, is that shit does the same thing. I hear your flies buzzing every time you open your mouth.