Porcelain Doll

Fragile like a porcelain doll.

Bright eyes, open wide holding back the tears.

Lips in a permanent smile, never to let the world know the pain.

Cracks held together by glue and hidden by dresses and hair.

Never to let the world know.

Fragile like a porcelain doll.

In the middle

I'm somehow stuck in the middle.
I always have been.
Stuck between pretty and ugly, just average.
Stuck between smart and stupid, just average.
Stuck between happy and seriously depressed, just ho hum.

But because I'm in the middle I just want rage, but really I have nothing to rage about.
My life doesn't suck that badly.
I'm not completely ugly, I'm fairly good looking enough for having had two children and a miriad of health issues.
I'm not stupid, but not brilliant, just in the middle.
I'm not so depressed that I want to do anything stupid, but not happy enough to be happy.

What is wrong with me that I cannot just accept that I'm just me?
Be content with my flaws?
My inabilities?
The cookies will wait until next year.
The Christmas cards just get thrown away anyways.
Everyone knows I'm lying to them when I say I'm fine...

My wish box is empty... again... it always is.... Either my wish box has money in it and my marriage sucks or my wish box is empty and my marriage is living on alcohol. Its the only way.

Dante

Numb, yet still in pain. Wishing to be numb.
No tears left to fall.
One small three letter word, such an easy question.
Without an easy answer...

why?