tonight i find myself pacing the floor and murmuring snatches of song lyrics. a tight feeling as found home in my lower belly and my fingers tense and flex. these are the kinds of nights that sleep doesn’t come and my alarm doesn’t wake me because i am already up. these are the kinds of nights i cut my hair short and bake muffins while spinning around. these are the nights i have come to know as inescapable because the cause i have to pinpoint. they are the irregular yet common theme that strings all my weeks together. on these nights words that have flitted through my head all day finally find a home on paper. on these nights even the therapy of the old keyboard that i learned to type on against my fingers is not enough. because of these nights, i find myself turned inside out as a hurricane lays waste to every firm structure in sight. people i confide in are suddenly blown away. i think the worst part is that i am not sad. i am not happy. i simply brush my fingertip over a freckle on my radius and smell the lavender oil i brushed through my hair. on these nights i think i forget how to feel and even as the hot water numbness of my shower weares off i fin myself searching myself for emotions but coming up empty. from ocean to desert and back again in a night.
Perfectly Imperfect Me 