Of too much decaf, the curse of a vivid imagination, and bigfoot.

  1. I sleep in—way in—just to get the six hours I need to function. It might be caffeine’s day to visit.
  2. Underskin tremors, body gravity, low heaviness, powerful weakness. The sensations of waiting.
  3. I mentally skim the list and instinctively know there’s no way to get it all done. I mark what’s good (not what’s written largest), loosen my grip, and give it over.
  4. Tori Amos and the season of feelings.
  5. Four cups of coffee is too many, even when it’s decaf.
  6. We talk about titles, oversaturation, internet community, and how it feels when the thing is your thing but you don’t want to do the thing even though you know the thing is good.
  7. I pour out a pain that isn’t mine into a note on my phone with tears streaming and prayers whispered and a fugue over it all. I’m afraid to go back and read what I wrote. But what is it for?
  8. One day I won’t have panic attacks in the diaper aisle.
  9. I curl around her at the side of the bed, our foreheads touching, our breath synchronizing. The knot in my throat is made of memories of all the other times like this, made miniature and sticky with time.
  10. Oh, Dang! Bigfoot Stole My Car With My Friend’s Birthday Present Inside

Author: Ellie

Uppity stardust. Will eat (almost) anything.

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