Today, I’m not in the mood. It’s been a bad month. Of waiting. Of wanting. Of not knowing. The breath snatching crush of clay footed idols and the odd unsettling disappearing act. The hollow space has shifted again. And I’m unsure of where I stand. I feel the warm creep of summer. But I’m not the woman I was when the sun last warmed me. I’m less. And so much more. And I’m wondering why my tolerance has become so selective. Why I can’t bare the scraping of a life against the boards. Why I can’t stomach another round of ‘how are you’s’ and air kisses. Why I rage against lives not worn in. Worn out. Why I’m pissed off with wondering where the point lies. Where the joins crack and bubble. And why connecting is so very easy, yet so very, very hard.
And so I’ll mash through this day. End it with a drink. And hope I wake again, better. Lighter. Unburdened by this overbearing, overwhelming need to give a shit.