needing a venting. sun is out this morning, hazy, despite the undercurrent of autumn chill. one of the last gasps of summer, i suppose, before cool begins in earnest. woke up this morning crotchety. called j., heard the shortness in my own voice and had no way of curbing it, no access to the root of it. "is it PMS?" she asks me. calm. cool. reassuring. i am not reassured. i am scared. tired of this dragging down, tired of the sinking in my abdomen, the weight of mood. when, how, does this go away? how to buck up, pick up, shape up?
and now, here i am, ass in seat at work. am feeling my head sliding closer and closer to the keyboard, my fingers slow. heavy-lidded. now there's a nice picture. you understand, of course, that i'm talking in symbols. i hope.
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