February Poem

Drama.

What does one do without it?

No bursting into tears? What?

I must not be sad.

No bursting into laughter?

I must not be happy.

Depression and joy.

There was no in-between before.

As Aristotle says,

"For some a neutral state is painful,"

But I'm afraid that the neutral

State is just neutral.

Am I a stone?

An empty box?

A collection of human body parts?

To lie awake until 2am

Asking myself

"What do I want?"

And the stark answer,

Nothing.

No, no, there must be an answer.

Friends? No.

Projects? No.

Romance? No.

Martyrdom? No.

Suicide? No.

Devoid of desire.

Am I a robot?

Will I break at some point?

Become a living bleeding girl again?

Am I content?

Have I found contentedness,

That wanting nothing more than I have?

But I don't want what I have

Nor am I glad for anything.

I don't even wish for the sleep that could end these

Loops of cold introspection.

Am I insane?

This seems remarkably like insanity.

But I go about my day.

I read with understanding.

I listen attentively and speak lucidly.

I eat with people who joke and frown.

The daytime normalizes life.

What would it be like to feel?

I remember the idea and wait for the reality.