Wednesday Was Okay

I judge how good my day is based on the number of texts I send.

If it is a good day I will send fewer texts because good things will have happened

And I will call my mother to tell her about it.

But if it is a bad day I will text my friend about it.

But he just tells me to call someone.

He doesn’t understand that calls are a happy thing.

Reserved for good times only.

For laughing times and giggles and childish glee.

It is easier to text about the bad things because

You don’t need to actually say what is wrong.

And if you don’t need to say then nothing is wrong.

And if nothing is wrong then it is all okay.

But it isn’t okay.

Because everything is crumbling and melting.

Reality is distorting.

You cry in public and people just stare.

Things stop being enjoyable.

The sweet smells are no longer fresh and remind you of better times.

And you want to turn back the clocks because now

Your brother doesn’t know your name and

Your mother cries and

Your father can’t remember what day it is.

But if you don’t actually say it then everything is okay.