Her Charmed Life

It’s nice. Not too bad at least. There’s a quiet that’s soothing, there’s bad TV on, it’s a little drafty even. My belly is full of dinner, my eyes are stinging from tiredness. I have a headache from all the wine last night. My thigh is tingling, it’s fallen asleep under the weight of the head that’s resting on it. I feel a little like crying and a little like smiling. It’s nice to be here in the aloneness with someone. I can’t escape the deep, soul crushing hopelessness that’s always draping over me like a cloak of maybe-you-should-kill-yourself and you’ll-never-feel-the-sun-again (Chuckle, chuckle), but maybe I’m not the only one who feels it.

That’s actually a huge relief. I feel so dramatic all the time, especially when I write about these feelings. It’s like what the hell do I have to be so deeply upset at? Like… get over yourself girl. Logically, I know these feelings are normal and that I’m not the only one who has them. God damn it’s hard to remember that sometimes though. It’s incredibly…nice. It’s so nice to know someone who feels the same, or a little close to it at least. It feels like warmth. Like you just got settled in a hot bath after a long day. It’s just really nice. 

Relax, relax. There’s no delusions here (not yet). I still feel invisible. But at times like today, it feels like I’m wind, rather than nothing at all.

Que It’s Nice to Have a Friend by Taylor Swift