I pick up the knife to cut the vegetables for dinner. For just a moment—the quickest flash of an instant, I think ‘Why don’t you ram this knife into your skull’. Just a thought, gone quicker than one can imagine and certainly before it can take hold in my mind and take shape and grow. I finish cooking dinner, sit down at the dinner table and eat—alone, always alone. Silence. No tv. No music. I don’t need it, I’m listening to the screams inside me. Of course I don’t hear actual screams, it’s more a feeling—really it’s a want. I want to scream as loud as I can, I want to smash things, I want to let the rage out. I easily could, I’m alone, no one would even know. But I never do, I just sit and continue to eat in silence. Then I will clean up the dishes, read or watch an old black and white movie on TCM and pray the tears don’t come. A life of quiet desperation.
I have cried enough tears to fill the whole fucking world, and all of them for me. How evil my God must find me. While I wrap myself in sadness there are young girls right now being forced into the sex trade. I was born in Toledo, Ohio which is like ground zero for human trafficking in the U.S. One horror among many horrors that happen in this world. Are these tears that are falling really only about my unhappiness? No. I cry for us all. I hurt for us all. I pray for us all.