where did the time go?
I must be stuck in a crack, my dress wedged firmly in the fissure and I can't pull it loose. I do what I have to but move neither forward nor back.
Maybe it's Pandora at fault. The songs they pick are just right for melancholy, remembering scraps of happy and shreds of miserable.
Joni Mitchell holds me, Lyle makes me homesick, the Wailing Jennys nurture an ache I forgot about.
Fall. Death. Birthdays of people I care about but don't see anymore. Some mornings I can't get out of bed. Some nights I can't get to sleep. I'd forgotten what hungry feels like.
Whatever. You don't have a clue who I am anyway.