Today.

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             Told to swollow it, told to move on. But today, no, not today. Today I will learn the Heimlich and force it out of my swallowed emotions. Today I will drive alone, along the coast and quietly play my indie music. Today I won't pretend that I am content where I am, that there isn't some where else I want to be. Today I will turn my AC on to make myself feel cold. Today I will let myself remember your hand in mine as we walked the pier swapping three letter words. Today, I will let myself be happy with being sad. Today I will let myself drive faster at the thought of "her". Today, I will drive around your cul-de-sac and play Beyoncé.
          Today I will wear over sized flannels and hike a mountain or something. Today I will take rad indie pictures of the forest, and won't pretend that I am happy sipping mainstream "coffee". Today I won't pretend that I am content within the gates of my gated community. Today I will wear my grandpas clothes and reminisce of a time I never lived. And tomorrow? I'll be ok, I won't think of you, or the mountains or the coast or cozy flannels or the smell of a musty, chimney burning, old rug, old carpet, old candle old blankets in an old wooden home that I don't own. And * swallow *

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