You're my bad. My making. My mistake.
Without me messing up by expecting something from someone some place or some thing, we wouldn't have met now on a late chilly Tuesday night. This time, I summoned you by putting some hope into someone. And boy, I feel you right there sitting heavy on my heart. I feel your cringe worthy self shaking your head at me, as if to say 'I told you so...' And you did. You did tell me so. But I didn't listen. Hope grew strong in me and clouded my judgement. Hope brought along expectation with her, and now I was under their bonded spell. And now, as expected, here I am, tangled with your long and brutal tentacles. As if I was your prey all along, dear Disappointment.
I will not mince words tonight. Nor will I find the good in you, the lesson that you give me with your presence, the meaning that you have. I will not do so because I feel the weight of you tonight and you are heavy. Too heavy for optimism. Too heavy for hope.
The only hope I feel is in that quiet inner child's wish that you had not appeared at all, and that the friend who disappointed me tonight, wouldn't have done that at all.
But alas... neither I or you are time travelers, and wishing is only kept for birthdays and shooting stars. I will feel you and all your weight, and maybe come tomorrow, your weight will be a bit more tolerable to bare.
With you, reluctantly,
In April 2020, while experiencing her first ever global pandemic, Tamar Pelzig pledged to write something every day, even if it's only a word, so she welcomed to the world a daily blog to keep her creative writing wheels rolling.
Header Art: Daniel Landerman