Sometimes

I put what is in my head, the stuff that the lady approves for release, on paper. It isn’t always pretty but it’s always me.

Sometimes I write very specifically about a person, group, or memory.

Sometimes the things I write are general leaving people to draw their own conclusions about what I mean.

Sometimes what comes out is sarcastic and other times what comes out is emotionally charged.

Sometimes the things that spill out of my head are things that I’ve always been afraid to say out loud.

Sometimes I say things that are better left unsaid.

Sometimes I don’t say the things that need to be said.

Sometimes I want to run through the sprinklers and play with the unrestrained joy of a child.

Sometimes I feel like I’m an old lady that only has fond memories of joy.

Sometimes I pretend that I have it all together.

Sometimes I do have it all together, at least sometimes.

Sometimes I act like I don’t care but on the inside I’m dying.

Sometimes I pretend to care but on the inside I’m oblivious.

Sometimes I laugh when I want to cry.

Sometimes I cry when I want to laugh.

Sometimes I think I can’t possibly go on.

Sometimes I think there is nothing on this earth that can stop me.

Sometimes I love me.

Sometimes I hate me.

But just sometimes.

Sometimes I give too much.

Sometimes I don’t give enough.

Sometimes the lady even makes sense to me.