Heavy Hearted

There are certain mornings, when it's too cold to jump out of bed and the sun's rays are sprinkled across my body, that I just lay in bed and think. Lately my days have been filled with as many people as possible. So those waking moments are the few minutes I gve myself to be completely alone--something I've feared since last December. I usually think of the past weekend. Of the people I spent it with. The boys with long hair who thought they could make me feel good but whose lips were too thin and grammar too incorrect. I begin to wonder what it would take to make me feel good again--really good not this good I've convinced myself to believe. Before I thought it was the idea of knowing others want me but I've realized that my scars may be deeper than I first judged. You've probably scarred me for future relationship, but I probably shouldn't keep using "you." You've probably been able to escape these feelings. I didn't do anything, so I should be able to too. It's not too often that these thoughts cross my mind, but for those few minutes my heart sinks so low that it feels as if I am anchored to my bed. The moment passes and I can pick myself up, slide into my velvet minidress and platforms, and convince myself it's going to be a good day. It usually is.