Lesson 63 – So They Say

Life happens.

That’s what they say.

It never rains, it pours.

They say that too.

Things come in threes.

That’s another one of theirs.

Well, I don’t want the third, thanks.
Two was enough for one day.

And I didn’t want the rain at all.
My hair had been meticulously styled.

But it did happen.

And it happened.

All while the rest of life was still happening.

My brain chose between fight or flight mode as my body remained composed.
The boxes that my mind conjured up to tidy things into became more and more ornate.
More and more  impenetrable.
More and more of them appeared.

And then it was done.

As suddenly as it had all started, it ended.

But the boxes were there.
Unopened.
Each one of them named for Pandora.

And now, I’m here, waiting to open them with as much trepidation as though I were about to rip a band-aid off my hairy arm.
I know I need to.
I know that’s how it’ll heal.
It needs to breathe.
It needs air.
But I know it will hurt.

Life goes on.

That’s what they say.

But I don’t like them.
I don’t like their smug tone.
And the fact they know what’s best for me.
Even if they are right.

So if I want to hide from them as I curl up into a ball and cry before I start opening lids, then I will.

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