Not a Hurricane, just a Cyclone

I'm not drowning in water, but words.

A feeling comparable to what I imagine standing under a waterfall feels like.

The longer you stand there, the more painful and heavy it gets.

But so many other people long to be there, so you continue your stand.

The water feels heavier and heavier and it's pummeling your skin, but you continue your silent vigil.

You never dreamed of this, but yet, here you are.

Stuck in a cyclone of cortisol.

Where weekends feel like the eye of a hurricane, perpetually too short.

It should feel impossible to feel so tired at this age.

So focus on the mundane.

Just breathe.

In.

Hold.

Out.

In.

Hold.

Out.

And find the joy in the little things.

M. Hank

VT

14 years old

More by M. Hank

  • Green

    When I think of the color green, I think of the trees behind my school. In kindergarten, when kids were cruel and words hurt more than sticks or stones, the trees were there.

  • I made tea

    I made tea this morning.

    I put the leaves in, watching the steam dance with childlike wonder.

    I returned to my laptop, staring at a half finished chapter, the bags under my eyes more apparent than ever.