There is a knock on the door.

An acquaintance of mine stopping by unannounced.

Always unannounced.

I open it, and she almost pushes me aside.

Barging in.

I’d tell her to go,

But she knows where I hide the spare key.

At least she must.

Because every time I get too happy,

Or things seem to be going just a little too well,

I hear her eager footsteps.

Closer and closer.

She sits down by my side.

Tells me it’s not gonna be alright.

That I’ll always be too much.

Or I’ll never be enough.

I try not to believe her.

I tell her she’s outstayed her welcome.

And you shouldn’t come where you are not wanted.

She gets up as if to leave, but hugs me tight instead.

I long to pull away,

To find a new hiding spot for that spare key.

So she can’t come back.

But Sadness is so familiar so I just sit there next to her.

Lay my head upon her shoulder.

Trying not to cry.