whispering heart

She awoke each morning with the desire to do right

To be a good and meaningful person

To be as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was

Happy. 

And during the course of each day her heart swell. 

By early afternoon she was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right

Or nothing was right for her

And by the desire to be alone. 

By evening she was fulfilled alone with the grief

Alone in the guilt. 

I am not sad

She would repeat to herself over and over

I am not sad. 

As if she might one day convince herself. 

Or fool herself. 

Or convince others

That the only thing worse than being sad

Is for others to know that you are sad. 

I am not sad. 

I am not sad. 

Because her life had unlimited potential for happiness

In so far as it was an empty white room. 

And each morning she would wake with it again

Having become a little heavier

A little weaker

But still pumping. 

And by the mid afternoon 

She was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else

Someone else

Someone else 

Somewhere else. 

I am not sad.