I Feel Like Crying

This is why, when I begin my six month stint of being up above, I feel so confused and even overwhelmed. When I’m down below, everyone loves my imagination—except perhaps Hades occasionally, and I can ignore him as I’ve been discovering—but here, here up above, on the Earth—many people—and Gods for that matter—regard me as sometimes even meddlesome.

“That Persephone. She’s always trying things out and trying to get people to do things differently.”

“She’s trouble.”

Often when I’m here, I feel like crying. Why did the Gods make me this way—make me with an imagination if I’m not supposed to use it or share it with everyone?

I’ll get to the point where I’m about to cry. But I don’t want anyone to see me in that state, especially Demeter who reserves the right to wander into my room anytime she feels like it—as though I were still a little girl.

So I take one of the pills that I bring with me from down below, and it gracefully puts me to sleep with the darkness engulfing me.

And then Hades comes.