Scratchy Sweater
It is 7:00 am. I have to work a little early tomorrow later today. Ok, that means I have to be there at 4 instead of 5. All the same the precious hours allowed for sleep are ticking away from me.
I can't get comfortable.
I can't get settled.
I can't turn off the noises in my head.
I can't shake this feeling that I need to cry.
I looked around my job today, where I sat in isolation. I looked at the cubicle walls and the carpets. They are so drab. There are tiny spots of color here and there but they are lost in muddied not-quite greys. The phone beeped in my ear and I replied- perky and professional. I talked to the elite. I found myself smothering in the greed and entitlement of both company and patrons.
Every time one of them asks me if I have traveled to the exotic destination that I plot for them I want to scream.
I thought of my family.
And the judgment.
And the sickness.
And the disease.
And the all around broken on so many levels that they represent to me.
I thought of my own body.
All the life and energy I once had. The experiences now past.
I wondered if I did too much too soon. If perhaps I peaked too early. If maybe I once traveled at the speed of light and now it will take forever in the silence before my screams can catch up to me.
My life feels like a scratchy sweater.
It fits. It keeps me warm enough. But it is uncomfortable. It irritates my heart and soul. I fidget and scratch and tug. All this just makes it abrade my skin further.
I wonder if there is someone...or something...or some place that would be the soft cotton shirt between my life and I.
Or perhaps even a good fabric softener that would fix it longer.
Anything to make it stop scratching and abrading me.
Is there a different life out there? A sweater that is soft and soothing?
Is it a brand new sweater? Perhaps even something knitted just for me? Warm and cozy like kitten fur?
Maybe even an old sweater. Something well worn by others. Something that is stretched but sturdy and has proven itself to keep others warm over the years.
It is past 7am.
I need to sleep.
I want to cry.
My hand shake. My jaw clenches. My breath seizes. My thoughts and anxiety scream within my head.
And my life...it irritates my being like a scratchy sweater.
I can't get comfortable.
I can't get settled.
I can't turn off the noises in my head.
I can't shake this feeling that I need to cry.
I looked around my job today, where I sat in isolation. I looked at the cubicle walls and the carpets. They are so drab. There are tiny spots of color here and there but they are lost in muddied not-quite greys. The phone beeped in my ear and I replied- perky and professional. I talked to the elite. I found myself smothering in the greed and entitlement of both company and patrons.
Every time one of them asks me if I have traveled to the exotic destination that I plot for them I want to scream.
I thought of my family.
And the judgment.
And the sickness.
And the disease.
And the all around broken on so many levels that they represent to me.
I thought of my own body.
All the life and energy I once had. The experiences now past.
I wondered if I did too much too soon. If perhaps I peaked too early. If maybe I once traveled at the speed of light and now it will take forever in the silence before my screams can catch up to me.
My life feels like a scratchy sweater.
It fits. It keeps me warm enough. But it is uncomfortable. It irritates my heart and soul. I fidget and scratch and tug. All this just makes it abrade my skin further.
I wonder if there is someone...or something...or some place that would be the soft cotton shirt between my life and I.
Or perhaps even a good fabric softener that would fix it longer.
Anything to make it stop scratching and abrading me.
Is there a different life out there? A sweater that is soft and soothing?
Is it a brand new sweater? Perhaps even something knitted just for me? Warm and cozy like kitten fur?
Maybe even an old sweater. Something well worn by others. Something that is stretched but sturdy and has proven itself to keep others warm over the years.
It is past 7am.
I need to sleep.
I want to cry.
My hand shake. My jaw clenches. My breath seizes. My thoughts and anxiety scream within my head.
And my life...it irritates my being like a scratchy sweater.