i have become well-acquainted, unwillingly, with the kind of sadness that makes you catch your breath. so sudden and sharp that it boils over spilling onto cheeks, onto notebook pages, onto kitchen counters, onto sheets where i turn sleeplessly. sometimes there’s a reason for this a problem i can solve but the worst of it are the nights when the ache is baseless comes from everywhere and nowhere at once. i want to release myself from comparison i want to be able to spend peaceful nights alone i want to turn away from the heavy chest, the listless limbs that can consume me even on sunny days. but most of all i want to know myself the happy, capable, creative woman who is good enough to be my own company when i’m lonely. but some days she is not with me. some days it’s got be enough to know that she exists - she’s just stepped away. and sooner or later she’ll burst through the door with the sunflowers she’s been out collecting with the promises of better days i’d wished for all this time.