Grit in my eye

I was good at compartmentalising, at breaking muddled up thoughts and packing them into little tiny square boxes. Boxes that I would shut and put away for later, when it was the right time; when I was ready to deal with it.

Each one had a special cover lest it would seep into the other, leaving it blotched and smelly. Naah I had learnt the art of chunking, packing and compartmentalising so well. A good four years of practice and I thought I had it mastered.

But the packs are leaking now. I am a little muddled. The darkness around, the lack of clarity has me tripping, bumping into the little things I have left lying around. 

It is just one more thing I must deal with. Like the mornings I convince the kid to head to school, like the excel sheet that has empty slots to be filled in, the calls I must take and return…It’s just one more thing on my list I must tick off.

But how?!
The bubbles are gone. The wrap has loosened up. Little droplets trickle in smearing and smudging all my boxes. The lines are blurring.

Crevices have been allowed. 
The slate was clean. I had scrubbed it hard. Love and tears and with all of me I had wiped it clean.

But you aint satisfied.  You scrape it, over and over again…the sound it makes me cringe. 

You pounce.
You sneak up.
You lash out. You whimper.
You strike and you wince.
The smears they blur me but I aint blind. 
You crawl back unwilling to let go, shamelessly hopelessly hanging on. You call on death. You call for mercy. You call out to humanity. If only you could see you for you. 
Cos I do and it is not a pretty sight. 
I am not one to lie. And for the grief I have been through it wouldn’t hurt to see you in pain. But I am not petty and I have a life. You are just a speck that’s stuck to my lens; nothing a few tears won’t wash away.
And like every other time in the past, I am gonna get packing. That is after all the one thing that life has taught me to do.

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