Pincurls

I set my hair. 

Before I went to bed last night I set my hair in pin curls like I always used to do. 

So at least my hair looks normal. 

I couldn't bring myself to do my makeup though, which made me feel a little like a failure. 

But I figure if I can set my hair each night this week that's something. 

That's one small part of who I am. 

Who I want to be. 

That's something. 

I feel like a crazy person. 

I drove home from the beach, again feeling defeated. 

Because anytime I've gone to the coast, no matter what was going on in my life, no matter what dumb boy had broken my heart, no matter what I was anxious or sad about, it only took a couple hours of time Oceanside for my spirit to feel centered and I'd drive home feeling like myself again. 

But that didn't happen Sunday. 

I wasn't miserable. 

It was still the beach. 

But I didn't leave feeling centered. 

I felt the same. 

Except possibly a little more sad because now I feel like I failed again. 

This experience is very strange. 

Mother said she knew something was really wrong with me when I went over because she said I always want to talk when I come over but I just collapsed and watched tv. 

She said I never do that. 

But I didn't want to talk. 

And when your mother notices you're not yourself then you know you're not really crazy because mothers know the real you and the real me went on a vacation without telling me and the parts she left behind are confused and disoriented. 

I feel like I'm doing a good job getting up and going to work but I've had two different managers in the past week ask if I'm alright. 

Not like, hey buddy, how's it going. 

Like, genuinely, slightly whispered, you doing okay.

And you know what?

I said no.

Both times I was asked I was honest and said, no, not really, I'm not okay.

And it felt really good to just tell the fucking truth.

I'm fine. 

I'm here. 

I'm breathing. 

I'm functioning. 

But that's all I really have right now. 

A few people have told me they'd never know anything was wrong if they just went off my social media. 

And I thought, aren't people peculiar. 

Just because someone's heart has been broken doesn't mean they can't still think a butterfly is beautiful and post a photo of one. 

Trying to find beauty and joy when all I feel like doing is laying in bed with my cat for the rest of my life feels like the best thing to do. 

Of course nobody noticed that the photo I posted of me smiling is captioned with song lyrics from a song about losing everything. 

But that's okay. 

I don't think most people understand me. 

The only thing that really helps is creating. 

I'm not quite sure what else to do. 

But I do know making things makes my heart hurt a little less. 

So there's that. 

I have curly hair and I have that.