Coming Home

Collecting my thoughts and emotions before entering the room.

I fumble my keys, seeing them bounce from one palm to another.

I begin feeling the keys for the one that is in the shape of the guitar.

Pressing the key into the knob I twist and open the door.

I am not sure why I had to put on a happy face.

There is no one waiting for me on the other side of the door.

Seeing my fish become alert makes ripples.

I close my door and hang the keys on the nail, that is against the wall.

Placing my misshapen bookbag on the dispainted creaky wooden floor

I guide myself to my couch.

Once on my gray couch, I go blank.

Airplane mode.

I know that my mind is still processing what I went through today.

But I am just laser focused on the scales of my Goldfish.

Placing my hands on my face, seeing my leathery palms before not being able to see.

My head rests against the wall.

It is year 4, and I still don't feel like I am progressing.

Feeling a wave of insecurity go across my face, that started from the tip of my nose.

I feel my lips slope downward forcefully, but I refrain myself from crying.

It is not always like this.

Sometimes I come home without having to remind myself that I am happy.

Because sometimes I am happy.

And my apartment is full of light,

And there is a faint scent of hope and inspiration.

On those days I get work done immediately.

I am a leaf trying to get from one point to another with the wind helping me.

I got out to get coffee and say hello to my barista.

Seeing the sky go from blue, to light blue, to a soft pink, and finally a dark blue.

Heading home, I watch out for the uneven pavement.

A breeze comes from behind and encourages me to get home sooner.

I smile and hope more days come like these.