I browsed through my notebooks this afternoon, hair still wet from the pool. I wanted to post a poem I had written.
Sensible Amberley tells me, sternly and without wiggle room, “No.”
I look for it anyway. Found it and read through the poem.
I have read it so many times.
There are notes in the margins. Tears and tears on the page.
My fingers still tremble when I read it.
The first poem I ever wrote.
The first poem Amberley ever wrote.
It is not a nice poem… none of the first ones are.
Today is not the day. Tomorrow will not be either.
Maybe, when my fingers do not tremble to read the ugly words I scrawled in this room… in this room when it was a lot darker than today… when my fingers stay firm, straight, strong, unflinching. That’s the day I will post it.
But today is a good day. I do not wish to stain this day with tears that are always waiting to be shed.
These days, I am a full water balloon. One touch and I burst.
I apologise if I wet you. My emotions are everywhere. Sometimes, I am too much. Sometimes, I am too annoying, too emotional, too clingy…
I hate that… clingy. What arsehole came up with “too clingy?” What? Do you not like someone loving you?
The oven dinged so I have to go adult.