I hurt today.
I’m so very tired of hurt. How it barges into my life without any thought to how much I already have on my plate. I tell it, “Now is not a good time” but it just kicks off it’s shoes and plops down on the sofa. Yells for a beer. Makes itself at home.
I look at the hurt slurping down its beverage and dirtying my coffee table with its muddy shoes and then I look out the window. All of life is out there passing me by. People coming and going and it seems like hurt never visits them. I feel guilty for wishing it’d go knock on someone else’s door but all the same, I wish it would.
I look at it again, flipping through the channels on the tv with a stupid grin on its face and question, “Why do you like it here so much? Isn’t there somewhere else you’d rather go?” It ignores me as the usual.
I go in my room and pull back the covers and slip under with intentions of catching some shut eye and avoiding my unwanted guest. But as soon as I slide into unconsciousness, it crawls in beside me bringing with it unease, sadness, tears, and bad dreams.
It follows me to the shower, to work, to the grocery store, to church, to a friends house.
Sometimes I outrun it for awhile. Feel the hope and joy gurgle up in my belly. The corners of my mouth spread out and my eyes crinkle. Laughter explodes out from my lips. I look around and my couch is empty and I wipe the remnants of the mud off the coffee table. I fold the sheets back and plump the pillows on my bed. I restock my fridge. I think, “maybe it found a new home”.
I thought I had outrun it completely in some ways recently. That’s what I get for thinking. My unwanted guest is back with its cruel lips and greasy hair and filthy shoes. Its the one laughing while my eyes are puffy and my cheeks are tear stained. “Welcome home”, I say to it as I shrug my shoulders and hand it a beer.
You’d think I’d be used to it by now.