I don’t know what I want to say here, only that I hurried to get my laptop because the feelings were starting to feel like friction.
This year has dragged me over the carpets, and sometimes it is fine, and sometimes I am a bumble of lightning.
I’m afraid to shock someone, afraid to sting them even just a little.
. . .
I’ve been sitting in front of this screen for over an hour now, electrocuting myself in a series of sentences I can’t finish, let alone publish. Everything is fine.
My stomach is full. The lights are on. The rent is paid. I’ve been loved my whole life. Not a soul could find fault with all that.
. . .
Everything above was written 5 days ago. In my head is an doughball of thoughts that I knead and I knead, and I do not need.
What will rise from all of that, I wonder?