Heaviness Despite My Gargoyle

     I'll start this post by telling you that today was a really good day. I spent most of it painting a ceramic gargoyle, while one of my best friends, who's practically my big sister, painted a cute little troll. We ate lunch together and had a really great time. She is the one and only reason I can honestly write that today was good.

     I don't mean for this next part to come across darkly, but I'm inclined to believe that it will. Heavy - that is what everything has become. Each word spoken by those for whom I have unrequited love adds yet another weight to the heaviness. Each thought that enters my mind stays there; they pile and crowd inside my head, pushing against the walls of my skull. Each glance into the mirror adds countless pounds, figuratively and literally. Every one of my unidentifiable emotions has entangled itself into a massive knot. It is all so heavy. So, so heavy.
    
     Contradictory to yesterday's post, the quote by Henry Miller, I have been praying to God. Not for myself, -I haven't done that in years- but for my family, my friends, and all who are suffering. But I know he doesn't hear me, and I know it's because he doesn't want to. A cry for help would do me no good. He wouldn't listen anyway.