Life is like a puzzle and some days I feel nauseous and I just spew pieces all over the sidewalk. People start giving me looks, start having to walk around me. I apologize but I can’t clean it up. It might be all in my head, it might not, but I just have to wait until it makes sense. I just have to sit on this spoil until I can throw it out, or crack it and rebuild. Until I get one of those mornings where I can finish the puzzle with my eyes closed. Bless those mornings.
Don’t bless the mornings that feel like dead weight. Or the afternoons fraught with messages that pop up like landmines in your inbox. I’m struggling with the permanence of nothing. I’m talking about the way that everything changes but somehow things can still stick to you like a smell or a song.
I feel like I’m standing in a claustrophobic pile of frilly bridesmaids waiting for the bouquet to be thrown… but I’m really just standing under them waiting for one of their shoes to drop when they lunge for the stupid thing. What do I get if I catch the shoe?
Do I get happiness? Is that what this is? Take a deep breath. The shoe is about to drop.
You know when you get irrationally upset over something ridiculous like you order a coffee and you’re watching them pour it and they don’t fill it to the brim and it feels like a blister popped on the back of your throat. You’ve feel like you’ve been ripped off and you are in the mood for pity but nothing comes out of your mouth because the only one you’re really mad at is yourself, and deep down you know this.
Yes, emotions are a physical thing for me. They come with their own symptoms; some overlap and this wreaks havoc on my soul. This causes confusion of the mind. How do I know which feeling is causing this? I don’t know how to hold it down when my head is full of helium and busting through the ceiling. My lungs are filled with miniature balloons and someone is poking a needle through the spaces between my ribs. I wince and try to stay straight face like I just took eight shots of gin to the face and I’m pretending I’m not afraid of ten minutes from now.
I’m in a fish in a bowl and everyone that’s looking in is either a little worried, or a little confused. Okay fine, I am afraid of ten minutes from now. The gin is a bottle of hot wine and it’s bubbling in my stomach. Stop moving for a second and let it settle. Let the blood rush to all the edges. Breathe damnit. I’m in a fish bowl and you better not get too close because I’m about to shatter this thing and it’s going to hurt.