I didnt know
Patience and promise
Could weigh this much
But even light things
Get heavy when held
Long enough
May 8
May 8, 2026 at 12:46 PM UTC
I wipe my sweaty
palms on my jeans
for the third time
since pulling into
the parking lot.
Just breathe.
Make eye contact—
Not that much eye contact.
Nod, not too much,
And not too fast
I dissect each conversation
my nail carving crescents
into the soft side of my finger.
My mouth forgets how to coordinate
with my tongue
to make sound
consonants,
vowels,
words,
sentences
My tongue trips over my teeth
and there is no catching what falls out
Thanks,
you too.
May 8
May 8, 2026 at 11:34 AM UTC
I throw the axe and miss the bullseye.
The blade thuds against the hardwood, bounces sideways, then lands with a loud clank.
My eyes trace the slits in the target, counting the times people have missed.
I drag the air in slow through my nostrils, and a whispered sigh escapes my lips.
Missing has never felt neutral to me.
I reposition my feet behind the yellow line, riaise my arm, and release the axe.
Thud. Clank.
Accuracy is harder than it looks.
Keeping score of myself is heavier than the 1 lb axe, and it has never improved my aim.
May 8
May 8, 2026 at 11:23 AM UTC
My restless legs keep me up.
I hurl the covers off. The faintest brushing irritates them.
I get up and pace the hallway. My bare feet pressed to the cold tile numb the tingling enough to attempt falling asleep.
Back in bed I stare at the stucco ceiling connecting the dots.
An umbrella,
a teacup,
a keyhole
Anything to distract from the gnawing
Under my ribcage
I have not the slightest idea what it feels like to be full.
May 8
May 8, 2026 at 11:21 AM UTC