Churn

It's times like these that I'm most nervous. In my chair at work, moving through the mundane and completely abstract functions I execute, my heart is pounding in my chest. My body appears at rest, but it isn't. I wonder if it confuses the body to have a heart rate like this while just sitting. Nothing has scared me within the last six months as much as your posts.

I've been having stomach problems lately. Pain after meals, even things like soup and bread. I was telling myself my diet has just been shitty lately, but I think it's stress. Until today I wasn't going to be able to make rent. I got lucky with the insurance refund. I have un-opened mail on my kitchen counter I'm afraid to touch. I'm such a pansy when it comes to these things.

Work has been a factor, I think. The strain has been sticking lately for some reason. Usually it just bounces off and I go home, clean as Teflon. But the last week or so has been tough. I go home and hunch my back into the bowl-shaped chair that's replaced my bad-karma couch. It's tough to go through the motions of cooking. Wait, haven't we read this somewhere before?

Today work feels like the floor of the New York stock exchange. It's not even that busy, my brain just won't go in one direction for more than twenty seconds. I should get back to it. Or at least make an appearance.

Adios, pardner.

- David

Post Script: I'm cool now. But I want to stop deleting the things I write as soon as the feelings that prompted them are gone.