Interruptions

Sometimes all I do is worry. I like to pretend that I am not, so I make jokes and watch people laugh at my voices. Me laughing with them is a cover. I do it until it doesn't work anymore. It's like changing sides in my sleep til I can get back to the good dream I was having, it never works. The dream is always changed. There is an interruption. The first time I hear a song is always better that the second. I hate it when a song has a very promising beginning and just ends up being so disappointing. That's what I'm doing right now, I'm trying to find a song to match the day. One I haven't heard before, one where the musicians have captured the moment for me. So far, no one has. The beginnings are close, but then I realize that the song's creators must have been having a different day than me when they wrote the song, so I just haven't gotten a match yet.
There was just a loud sound in the house, I should take the time to go investigate it. I don't want to, I'm angry with the sound for interrupting my thoughts. I feel like I've been interrupted quite a bit since I was born. Sometimes I talk myself into believing that the interruptions are what I was looking for. I've given hours to looking at leaves and blossoms with blemishes. I've spent minutes wondering at the anatomy of a crumpled pillow. My eyes have dwelt upon to shadows of my mirrored face for years. If I had all those times back, I would spend them on recognising that you were faltering inside my womb. I would find the evil twist in my body and will it to unravel. Why didn't I have that power? Why didn't the beginning of you dying interrupt my day before you were totally gone, Frost? I couldn't feel my own baby perishing, but I can pick a butterfly from a spider's web before the poison sinks in. I don't understand. The plans I made for myself as a child have all gone away.

Night, night Frost
Mama loves you.