This is how it feels. I'm hunkered down in a world full of things spinning out of control around me. Things affecting me, people affecting me, realities changing. Maybe it's that I'm afraid to move. Maybe it's that I think it'd be most wise not to. But I stand still. I don't want to affect anything because I am not ready to make choices. And in some cases I don't have any, and I don't want to face that either.
At times all of the spinning becomes too much. In order to maintain balance I hold my arms out 90 degrees from my sides. Palms open to the swirling realities and ex realities around me. In doing this, little things stick. Little pieces of what is going on. But only the pieces most drawn to me.
I pull them close to me and wear them like armor. They are my little somethings. The little somethings that will hold this thing together until I feel like I can move again with purpose and a little bit of control.
At times all of the spinning becomes too much. In order to maintain balance I hold my arms out 90 degrees from my sides. Palms open to the swirling realities and ex realities around me. In doing this, little things stick. Little pieces of what is going on. But only the pieces most drawn to me.
I pull them close to me and wear them like armor. They are my little somethings. The little somethings that will hold this thing together until I feel like I can move again with purpose and a little bit of control.
It’s time to lie down.
Face pressed warm into cold ground.
Footsteps coming near.
Thud. Tap. Pass. They always pass.
Ground becomes wet from sweat and tear.
Air now drained of all warmth.
Skin pruned damp and uncirculated.
Shiver in the wind.
Whither. Wilt. Gone. It’s always gone.
It’s time to lie down.
Face pressed warm into cold ground.
Footsteps coming near.
Thud. Tap. Pass. They always pass.
Ground becomes wet from sweat and tear.
Air now drained of all warmth.
Skin pruned damp and uncirculated.
Shiver in the wind.
Whither. Wilt. Gone. It’s always gone.
It’s time to lie down.
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