I’ve spent the Easter weekend crying my heart out.
The giants of doubt, fear and worthlessness have all been present.
But I continue to function, as I listen to popular band Oasis’ song ‘stop crying your heart out’ on replay, shedding tears that roll down my face into my ears…and earphones. An irritating consequence of, well, crying your heart out. Whilst lying down.
Yes, not every single minute of the day, and yes, I did leave my flat to go for a healing walk with a friend.
I rely on nature to soothe my burning insides. The smell of the river, the fresh scent of the mud, and the grass, with the slight promise of summer on the air.
I live near the river, and several docks and marinas. Across the river there is a sign painted on the wall in large letters telling vessels not to anchor there.
I imparted some of my tortured soul to another friend last night, who told me to stop acting like a spoilt brat. Fair comment I suppose, to someone who hasn’t had to live their lives in an invisible cage where tourists point and laugh behind cupped hands, while staring through side eyes with a twinkle of malice.
Yes, I haven’t spent the entire weekend visibly crying my heart out. But it happens every moment of every single day, whilst I continue living my life through a fake, plastered smile.
And sometimes it becomes real. Especially when the sunlight reflects off the water and and the boats sing to each other as they bob up and down.