How are you really?

I am not well but doing my best.
…approaching 50, still haven’t figured out love…
poured my soul into a book…
caregiver all my life…
I know too much and nothing.
I am tired, confused, heartbroken and can’t make my thoughts be still.
I don’t understand the world or why society or God insists on brutality as a teacher.
I’m enraged by oppression, in love with art.
I just want peace, breakthrough, stability.

I want someone safe to take over for me for once so I can put down everything heavy that must be carried because that’s life.

I want to stop being hurt by men.

I don’t want to leave my house.

I want to go away but there’s no where to go and I have to make Charlie’s food and pay bills.
I’m tired of hoping for things that never happen and find myself waiting for a Chinese animal to dictate my future while talking out loud to an Angel in my kitchen praying he’s actually there and something good is about to happen.

How are you really?

Are you real?

How?