A Beautiful Word, Maybe in Portuguese

Elle told me the moon was full. Said she thought that that was why she was in such a happy and chaotic mood. 

Maybe. 

I was neck deep in some emotion that I'm pretty sure there's no word for in English. I tried to articulate it by writing down the combination of obvious physical and mental sensations.

Head pressure. Chest weight. Panic. Isolation. Heat. Hopelessness. 

I had also been clenching my jaw, but I do that a lot anyway. 

It was some combination of loss and sadness and anger and fear and jealousy. There must be some beautiful word for it somewhere. Maybe in portuguese. Whatever it was, it wouldn't leave me. It had been present, loudly, all day. I know what started it, and I knew a reason it perpetuated, but it didn't seem like it should be having such an impact on me or my day. Maybe it was the moon.

Or maybe it was because I looked at the wrong social media account first thing in the morning. Or maybe because I still hadn't figured out how to stop expecting cinematic moments from people. 

Yeah, whatever it was.

As soon as I had closed the app I thought; Fucking idiot. Right before work? What did you expect? And now, here I am. Sitting at my desk, staring blankly at my email, unable to focus on anything but whatever this eldritch and all-consuming emotion is. 

On the bright side, it's a Friday, and it's been mostly dead. Only twice have I had to speak to anybody, and each time I was able to throw the mask on just long enough to get through the conversation. I'm exhausted, but the day is almost over.

Pace around. Try to remember lyrics to songs I like. Organize a filing cabinet. Whatever I can do to distract myself. I'm not sure if I've ever felt this particular emotion before, but so far it wasn't great. It'd be nice to never feel it again. I have a feeling though that I'm just opening myself up now to regular bouts of it, which is also not great.

Press my palm against my chest. Yeah, heart beating heavy and quick, but not fast like panic attacks. Just heavy and quick. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Same as everything else.

and the mantra;

It's an emotion. It will pass. You're okay. You'll feel better.

And I will feel better. I know that. Spring will come and beautiful things, days and people, all lie ahead for me. The weight and the dark of the world around me is caked up over my shoes like thick mud, but, even mud dries, flakes, and disappears. 

Outside the sun breaks through the February cloud cover and then the windows, before finally splashing across the walls and floor. I look for a moment, stand and go to the window. I wish it was warmer. I need to take a walk. Under the trees and in silence, where answers come and the dark fades. Few more weeks.

I really thought writing would help.