Memento Mori

I can’t tell the difference anymore,

Between who I am and

Who I choose to put on every morning.

I know that I will smile today but I don’t know which face to wear, maybe I’ll choose the brave one.

Everyday is an act of bravery.

I’m the greatest magician I know but also the worst. In the presence of others, I know how to make my sadness disappear but I cannot make it reappear when I need it. I wish I could make myself disappear.

I can be Jesus sometimes – I fish out one problem and it multiplies. I wish I could be Jesus enough to turn the water in the tap and my coffee and hot chocolate into poison.

I can’t seem to recall things these days. I wish I could re-member my fragmented memory. My thoughts are asunder and every piece is hidden in its own room in the labyrinth of my mind. I’m too scatterbrained to ruminate.

All there is is clattering in my brain, a cacophony between my ears and someone coughing from the dust and spiders and cobwebs that gather in the corners of my thoughts, where I choose not to dust, where to not pay attention.

Maybe today I won’t put on a face, just a skull of bone. I’ll be a corpse. I’ll be stern-faced today and when people wonder why I don’t smile anymore, why I no longer breathe life into spaces, why I’m so stiff, why I no longer move like I used to and why there’s no spring in my step, they’ll realise that I am no longer living and that I’m just simply alive.