Ode to bok choy

I feel the way I feel. I feel the way I feel. I feel the way I feel and I’m sorry. I’m sorry, body, for feeling the way I feel.

But I feel the way I feel because I think the way I think. I think the way I think. I think the way I think and I think that this ship shall sink. This ship that has sailed far, far into dangerous waters. These waters that hide sharp rocks, sharp rocks that crouch beneath the surface. This surface that makes no sound, that breaks and leaks nothing. Nothing – not a smile, not an evil cackle, no bubble and wrath. And this ship will surely sink. But how soon more will it sail?

Won’t it just sink now?

And so, I’m sorry, body, for thinking the way I think and so feeling the way I feel. Because it hurts you. And it makes you hate you the way you are. And it makes you tired because you can’t sleep. It makes you angry because you know you deserve more. And it makes you angry because you know I shouldn’t be thinking the way I think and so feeling the way I feel. Because you know that God has greater plans.

And yet, knowing what you know, I can’t help thinking the way I think. I can’t help feeling the way I feel. And I’m sorry.