Melancholy

The day drags on.

I think about what was.

What will be.

What could be.

What is.

I listen to The National's Boxer on auto-repeat. All day.

I'm not hungry.

I'm hungry. But only for ice cream.

Disappointment.

Confusion.

I want to run. Fast.

I want to sleep. Deeply.

I've read the same sentence six times. I still don't know what it says.

Automatic pilot.

I call my mom. "Everything's fine."

I call my friend. "Everything's not fine."

I stare off.

I do not cry.

I hate crying.

My mind races. About nothing.

I'm on edge.

I want to be alone.

I'm lonesome. I need company.

A long hug. A long, tight hug.

I'm lifted. If just for a moment.