I woke up feeling weird today.
This tightness in my shoulders–I press down to release it but it lingers.
This feeling in my stomach–the discomfort, it only grows.
Everything is a little too much right now. I want to hide, to retreat to my cave, to numb myself and pass the day in nothingness, holding to the hope that tomorrow will be different.
To write these thoughts, it feels melodramatic–like the lyrics I penned on the edges of my notes as an angsty, attention-seeking teen.
Things aren’t really that bad–just uncomfortable. And like any good 21st century American, I am an expert at avoiding discomfort and not at all good at abiding it.
I cannot hide.
After a quarter-century here, I know this.
But it is so