I don’t want to pull on my
big girl pants today.
I don’t want to regale the staff
With funny stories at
coffee break today.
I don’t want to whistle while I
work today.
Or sing, or chatter gaily, or to smile.
In fact, I don’t want to go to work
at all today.
I don’t want to get up,
paint on a happy face
and find my big girl pants
to wear today.
I want to curl up under my
duvet today and make the world disappear.
Pretend nothing else exists outside
of my bed today.
I don’t want to pull myself together, to
be brave, or to
be resilient, today.
I give myself permission to cry all day
today.
Relentless, exhausting weeping with
streaming eyes and runny, red nose from endless
shredded tissues.
That’s what I want to do today.
Give in.
Succumb to melancholy
And the futility of being me.
No, I do not want to pull on my big girl pants
at all today, maybe tomorrow,
But today,
I will not.