Laundry room

While doing laundry, Giuliana wrote this poem at 2:43 am about the importance of being witness to your own emotions.

It’s quiet

…

That’s a lie

The machines are humming

With water running

I’m crying

There’s no one here but

Me, my tears, and the chair

that won’t stop creaking

I sit sideways in this chair

Towards the security camera

Buried in my hands and hair

Yet

Looking up every now and then

To know that I am seen

I need to know that I am seen

I cry and hide my face because

My tears feel dry and fake

But when I pretend

that I’m on the other side of the camera lens

I’ll see myself in all my grief

And pity the girl’s tears and cries

And the clothes she still hasn’t dried