By Claire Burianek
I sit stooped
over a glowing screen,
struggling to drag out
appealing tendrils
of something meaningful.
I sit and doubt
the existence of honesty,
struggling to understand
why people’s golden tongues
are filled with darkness.
I sit and ponder
“the point of life”,
if there is one to be found-
is there a point to life
or are we all cellular clumps?
I sit confounded
by misery surrounding me,
or am I the misery?
Is it possible to feel that feeling again?
That feeling that used
to bubble up
from my stomach
and erupt
from my mouth and my eyes.
Has that feeling abandoned me?
And for that matter,
what is the point?
-by that, I mean of misery, of joy, of all of it!
I just need to get through this class. I just need to get through this day. I just need to get through this assignment. I just need to get through this workout. I just need to get through this week. I just need to get through this winter.
THEN, I’ll be happy,
not now,
but then.
Whenever “then” is.
If I’m falling apart
at the seams,
my stuffing spilling
onto the ground,
at least I’ll fall apart
laughing.