On Tonight

Tonight I sat on the steps in the
backyard and doubled over onto my lap, arms around my legs, the knees
of my jeans absorbing my tears. The dogs looked at me with something
like concern, and the mosquitoes bit my ankles.

I am lonely. I want someone to notice.
Call me! Text me! Email me! IM me! Appear on my doorstep! Say "hi", extend an invitation!
I want someone to connect with, and I'm sort of mad at everyone I know
for not taking action. I know that's unfair: If I want this to happen,
I should make it happen by doing it myself. But I don't want to impose
when I feel like this--who can I burden with my doubts and my fears?
Everyone I trust has their own worries, I don't want to add to them.
And I don't even know how to put what I'm feeling into words--who
exists who can understand without explanation?
Besides, I know that
if I reached out, this feeling isn't what we'd talk about. The deepest
stuff isn't often addressed, even my most intimate friendships usually
operate closer to the surface. It's not a bad thing. A distraction
would be welcome. However, it seems like it would be selling myself
short to actually seek it out. That's why I turned down the one
invitation I had tonight to see a movie with a friend. I kind of regret
that now.
So, I'll sit in the dark empty house, play Minesweeper over and over, consider making dinner (although I'll probably put it off until it's practically too late), and cry on the steps.

Because feeling bad is easier than feeling good. And maybe
because feeling bad is what makes feeling good worth it.