When I was a babe, mamma used to fed me walnuts. They were so good! She had big brown eyes - proud of me.

I miss walnuts so much! I was in a tree, and it bumped and then there were no more walnuts.

Until I found the human lady in the house with the spinning things all over in her yard; she gives me a walnut.

I came back the next day, she gave me another. Her eyes are like momma's - big brown and proud of me.

One day the lady with the spinning yard wasn't there.

I came back the next day,

And the next,

Nothing.

I remember momma after the tree bumped too hard. Red stuff, smelled awful. Momma never looked at me proud again.

I go inside the house.

The lady is sleeping. She's not awake. There are walnuts on the floor. The lady's eyes are still big. Still brown, but they don't see me.

I touch the lady.

She stirs, but there's red stuff on her. She's like how momma was.

I scream and I run and I make noise. I push stuff to the floor and they break and make more noise.

A man walks in and sees the lady. He falls and screams and gets back up.

He comes to me - he's scary so I run away.

The picks something up.

I'm sorry lady.

I'm sorry - he's too big.

It is a long time and I miss walnuts.

I wonder about the lady.

I miss momma.

The scary man gives me walnuts now.

He's got blue eyes, but they are proud and big too.

He says the lady will be ok.

Because of me.

There are some days

Loud days

Bright days

Picky days

Breathe-through-your-mouth days

Overbearing, unbearable

Just hide away days;

And some other days

Not-enough days

Need-more-weight days

Falling-away days

Do-I-still-exist? days

Unfeeling, Unbearable

Don't-leave-me-to-float days;

Like jumper cables to the brain

A low, constant pulse

Fizzing away at my processors

Short-circuiting my functions

Those days -

They throw me off;

They are my quiet days.

During can't communicate days

I'll smile and glance

Busy myself at work

As if there is no time

As though I'd not speak if I could;

Go home, feed yourself, try to eat.

Try not to fall asleep

Before your chores are done

Try not to rock

Try not to sob

Try to breathe reasonably;

Focus. Don't get upset,

Not yet.

Be normal for your flatmate.

Smile. Nod.

Pray to God.

You'll make it to sunset.

You will,

You have to.

Does everybody try this hard?

My flatmate seems fine

She says I look fine

They say I'm doing fine

I guess my acting's fine;

Then it happens

A quiet day

Where I have to speak

Where the aircon squeaks

And it's been so long

Since I've had any sleep

A coworker realized

I saw it in his eyes

Something's not right,

She's not herself;

Or I show happiness

And they stare

Because happy is not

A whole-body thing

It's in the voice

And the smile

But I forgot

For just a while

And I hear them say

That's not normal

As if they can tell

How do they tell?

I hear them,

Not in public,

Stop that!

Why can't you just

Learn how to act?

And I remember

"What a freak!

Don't touch me!

I don't want to catch your crazy!

You're too much for me."

"You need to try harder.

Study harder.

Make some friends.

You're making us look bad

Alone like that.

Lower your standards, hon."

To disrespectful?

To backstabbers?

Well then,

So Be It.

It's one bad day

Every now and then.

It's a sometimes

She gets this way,

Sometimes

She's just tired,

Sometimes

She slips up,

Sometimes

She forgets,

It's a

Some days -

Sometimes -

It's a sometimes

Kind of thing.

Most days,

Most of the time,

Mostly,

You'll miss the lovely

You won't see the beautiful

You'll walk past the witty

You won't experience the exciting

You'll forego the thoughtful

You won't see the kindness

You'll have lost the empathy,

Just because

sometimes I'm also...

Seemed

Not worth

The trouble

Of me.

She listens to music

Plugged into her headphones

As if they're life support

She holds back

All the good

Cause she's scared

Of her bad side

Dead hours in the dark

And she's awake again

Tearing her own heart to shreds

She holds back

No one should hear

She doesn't know why

She can't reach out.

She wants to be held

She forgot what it felt like

Now being touched burns

She holds back

Because she's so close

To Falling in on herself

She doesn't want collateral

She rocks herself

Hums a lullaby

With hollow eyes, empty smiles

Tomorrow morning

she'll pick herself up again

Sometimes

I feel myself

lose myself...

I drift away

A balloon in a storm.

I grab at its string

clutch desperately

as I'm swept

into my own mind...

Where thunder, bangs,

and gunshots mingle

with lightning, cuts,

and words I can't shake,

no matter how hard I try.

Where I can't run,

or scream loud enough...

An insect on a string

tied to a balloon

in a whirlwind

behind eyes

that gloss over.

My Saving Grace?

God can fly