I don't get it.
My days start off comfortable and content, and then on occasion, I'm hit by some less-than-nice feeling. And unlocking the door to my dark, empty apartment doesn't help much.
Generally speaking, it's been productive. All in all, things have been nice. I find that I can breathe. And I like that.
But there's been something bubbling beneath the surface- and we haven't talked about it.
I don't know what it is, or how to start it, or what might set it off. But I've been looking for triggers to pull because more often than not, it feels like we're running in circles.
I've found myself happy, this weekend. But I've also found myself sad. And I can't seem to explain the crying messes that I become.
Maybe I've been looking for afternoons in the park, or evenings in playgrounds. Maybe I've been waiting for things to quieten down so that I can talk.
Maybe I've always done that and that's just going about it all wrong.
You've got a point-
we do always seem to end up here. and no, I don't like it anymore than you do, believe me.
You're not the only one, you know.
I'm tired too.