And then it's the eighth, and it's a Tuesday

and I am falling apart

Like the walls might close in,
Like it's impossible to breathe,
Like if I spin around, I'd hit myself smack in the face with a reflection that's got crack lines all over it.


I don't quite fancy these spells of time that I get where I'm trying so desperately to run away,
only to find that you can't get away from yourself without tripping over your shadow.

I had a lovely time yesterday, I did. And it took me far enough away from the world.
But now, left shoulder blade stiff and a tummy full of koko krunch and bananas, all I'm thinking about is running away again.

Except, I've never thought of myself as the running-away sort. I'm not.
And what am I running away from anyways?
I suppose, what I mean to say, is that I need to get away.
Not necessarily run away but,
everything feels so very stifling at the moment.
I'm half afraid that if I don't catch myself in time, that I might just random smack a random child on the back of his head just because he said "tewshun" instead of "too-wi-shun" (tuition).

And I am fidgety.
I miss Muay Thai so much.
And it rained today so I can't blade without feeling like I might die.

I will be okay though, I must.
Because there's quiet time and all these things to do.
And I'm not distracting myself, and I love that I don't distract myself from the mess.
Instead, I go sit right in the middle of it all until it sorts itself out.

Time to take out the brushes and paints.
I've always loved doing that.


Sometimes I wish that the people close made it a tiny bit easier.
And I hate that I've just typed that or that I'm even thinking that.

But every second thing feels like it might break me.
I feel like I'm coming apart at the seams and oh,
just please don't look at me right now.
Because I'd turn out to be a frightful, frightful mess.