it’s like the feeling you ahve when you’ve really bruised yourself. sometimes, you forget you’ve done it and you move like you’re used to moving, and you don’t remember until it’s sharp pain and involuntary wince and tears spring to the eyes.
blink. blink. blink. rapid fire. semaphore. not here. not yet. choke it down, choke it back. for pity’s sake, not here. think about something else. anything else. no, not the silence. no, damn it, not the pure lack of reply.
morning meeting. details i must remember. thank you, distraction. deadlines and updates and ah, yes, remember ot follow up with that one after the meeting, what they said affects my project.
lunchtime meeting and product demonstrations. suggestions and questions and good food.
walking back to the office, i see sign that has a word on it that is the same as their name. damn it. breathe. breathe. not yet. not here. not now. maybe later. come on. you can do this. swallow and breathe. swallow and breathe.
bury myself in work. minutes and hours fly by. when i do notice the time, i check my email. fucking optimist. as if.
sometimes, silence is loud. sometimes it is so loud that you hear it like giant waves, like tsunamis of throbbing emptiness. they hurt, those empty waves. especially when you remember how full they used to be.
can’t keep them from coming. leaky eyes. i get me to the restroom where i can stand with my head down until it passes. wash my face. it’s hot outside. no one will notice. they’ll chalk it up to heat and humidity.
time to go home. relieved and reluctant all at once. no reason not to think about it at home. slow running tears. not the storm. not yet. still not quite over optimism. maybe i’m wrong. maybe they’re just busy. maybe i’ve misunderstood all of it and won’t it be funny when it comes to pass that is so and all my worry was for nothing?
i rock that thought to me. cradle it. it doesn’t hurt so bad when i rock.
but the tears won’t stop. slow, sliding wetness. damn it.
think i’ll read a book. or sleep. or maybe just go outside and walk. no one looks closely at you when you’re walking.