Tonight no sweetness or light surround me. Day two of barely-together seething about injustice in general, and whatever stupidity is in front of me in particular. I'm not the best wrangler for this powerful Seethe when she arrives, especially when I'm weak. Like now.
I know I am not fit company and it takes my full force to keep myself in that space in-between, where I can pretend life is just like that and make quasi-pleasant conversation.
I feel untethered, forever on cusp. The things that trigger my stress are real, they present clear and increasingly present dangers to my security and satisfaction. I walk a tightrope when I thought I'd at least built myself some sort of bridge. I want to speed up but I'm already teetering. The wind is so cold it freezes my smile in place, and when I try to speak my lips crack.
One foot. The next. And don't. look. down.
