There is unhappiness bubbling within me. From the moment (last week, 3/20/23) I heard the birds chirping to signal the rapid change from winter to spring; it’s then I started to feel ill. I felt like the season of being left out was upon me again. Experiencing trauma in isolation has caused me to silently begin to suffer with a type of pain that I fear; only “running away” or “avoidance” can help me escape. After I left my apartment that morning, I felt the slight temperature increase and saw the clear sky. I started to understand again that mother nature doesn’t care about our pain or our pretense of finding closure. She will move on; winter will become spring, and spring will become a hot summer.

The day these feelings arose again. I thought that perhaps it was a passing mist of melancholy, and I looked to the next day for hope. When the next day came, and it was warmer than the day before, I sunk into a stopur and couldn’t wait to get home to lay in bed to escape it. That entire week was the first week that was the warmest it had been in a while, but it was also the week where I couldn’t eat and I couldn’t sleep. 

At the end of that week, I was determined to make my resting place as comfortable as possible. It has been a year of being unable to sleep throughout the night, but it got worse this week. My lack of sleep has crushed against the notion of my imminent demise, as I am a lover of comfort and rest. However, I know my shrinking hours of slumber isn’t healthy. By mid-week, I was waking up starving but couldn’t think of anything I could consume that would satisfy me. I meal prepped for the entire week, and what tasted delectable on Sunday by Wednesday, I couldn’t stand the taste. Now, I am noticing more and more that I rarely find food enjoyable anymore. If I go out to eat, it feels like a grand performance of ordering and then half-heartedly consuming it as my public appetite has declined.

The morning I woke up hungry, I chose to break my fast by drinking water and then preparing tea and a fruit salad, but a few minutes later, I had the uncontrollable urge to vomit. This confused me as I didn’t have anything in me worth expelling, but I ended up vomiting water and stomach acid anyway. Nevertheless, I miraculously felt much better.

* * *

I feel stressed beyond belief, and I know a vacation will not help me because I will have to return to this place again. My biggest fear now is that I wouldn’t be able to conceive again and my nightmares now is always about what I gave up. However, I think this is a worthy punishment for me. I feel ashamed about what happened, and I know it will never leave me. The penalty is my personal humiliation and to constantly traverse the sounds made by a liar.

* * *

Springtime is supposed to be a happy time as we slowly emerge from the dark. Yet, a part of me desperately wants to cling to it and use it to hide myself away. 

I guess… all I can do is hope for rain to wash away the sparrow…