There’s something so protective
In my steel cocoon, crying for a day
That couldn’t love you any less,
Parking somewhere quiet where
The tears can flow for nothing more
Than screaming kids and broken pens,
Coffee spilled and angry words.
Tucked away in car park corners
Or in a queue at level crossings,
These are places close to heart,
Needed for a second start.
When I was living at home with my mum and things were really tense, I sometimes used to drive to the local supermarket, park up in a corner of the car park and spend half an hour crying.
I haven’t done that in a loooong time, but the other day I shed a little tear. It wasn’t the loud and ugly sobbing like before, just some tears over the fact that I can’t make a difference for everyone at school.
I was stuck at the annoying level crossing that I have to get over on my way home. If you time it wrong and the gates come down, you can be sitting there for a good quarter of an hour. Something about being in my little cocoon and not being able to move must have just triggered those emotions.
I would feel a bit pathetic, but I think that it’s quite a common thing to happen to people. I remember watching an episode of Weeds and Nancy got stuck at a traffic light that is infamous for staying red for hours. She has a melt down and I felt just like her sitting as I waited for the Great Western Train from London Paddington to zoom past.