i am, part 2.

And I am, so sick of only getting phone calls from telemarketers and my mother telling me someone’s gone I am so sick of constantly being in a state of grief; constantly mourning the voluntary and involuntary absences in my life I am, so sick of back swinging doors swinging in my face I am, so sick of always grieving what I once had realizing I never had it at all I am, so sick of eating to swallow the numbness and bury it deep within the pit of my stomach instead of savoring each bite not knowing it’ll be my last I am, so sick of always saying “I love you” because I know all too well it could be the last I am, so sick of knowing her so well she’s always at my back swinging door watching it hit my face I am, so sick of my reflection in the mirror always telling me it’s probably never going to be okay I am, so sick of resting my head against windows instead of shoulders and whispering truths making sure my face tells a lie.