For those who are always so put together.

Sometimes, I want to go crazy. Like not pegged 'normal' crazy, jumping to a flight to who knows where crazy. Like shards of glass, sideswiping dresser contents kind of crazy. Like running in high heels kind of crazy. Like needing meds kind of crazy. And crying, really really hard. All day. And then some. But I don't have anything to cry about. I think, I've been blessed enough to not possess a kind of life that requires me to be angry and sad and exhausted all the time; that or, there will be people off worse so I do not need to pull a theatrics. But there's something about...breaking china, or running and running in the highest shoes I can be in, that makes up for all of that unspoken - loss, loneliness, dependency, weakness, broken dreams, cynicism. A giant shout to anyone who could be listening, wordless, just a bunch of exclamation marks no one can understand and probably the self couldn't understand either. A break from being so put together. And when I've broken all the perfume bottles and tore off all my clothing off the hangers, and slink down on the floor to cry, I feel all of it - the gravity of the ritual that is going crazy for everything words can't express. In the end, we all know someone is listening.