Cold Tortellini

My mind is splintered in a dozen directions and I don’t even realize I’m eating cold tortellini. My mind is playing tricks and so is the monitor, neither wanting to show me reality. The wind blows cold on my bare arms but I don’t complain. Later the rain falls slowly, calmly, washing the dirt and grime away–but I still feel so lost in a maze of I don’t know what. I want to wake up tomorrow and hope it’s all gone. Hope everything is better. My mind aches and I yearn for something better. I yearn for a tomorrow. I yearn for another time and another place. I yearn for another situation. I yearn for something other than what I have right now. Is this just afternoon apathy, or a headache that won’t go away? The responsibilities assault my mind like an army and suddenly I’m out of ammo. Maybe I can wake up tomorrow in somebody else’s shoes. Then I realize just how foolish I am.

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