I saw a little girl skipping and humming today. I didn't smile at her. I was jealous. I didn't look into her eyes and glean what I could, I looked down, and heard the shuffle of my own feet. I wondered what age I was when I stopped skipping. Ten? Eight? Six? I still hum, although less and less. Only when I am alone. I used to hum to children, I have no reason for that anymore.

I used to think I could say anything here, but I don't anymore. I was told it was too sad, that I was sad. Yes, I am sad. Yes, I am mad. Yes, I am happy. Where do you put those pieces of yourself if you feel so full up you might burst? I need to prick the blister of me and let it out. Don't like it, don't read. Don't like it then you don't like me. Won't be the first time. Won't be the last.

My heart skips for totally different reasons than joy. Maybe when it turns to stone, I can skip it myself.