Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Fighting my cold is a lot easier than fighting myself, and so I have been out. Sitting in dim rooms, mostly, wheedling people into one more drink. Sometimes even angrily cajoling people into one more drink so I don't have to go home and deal with myself. I am unreasonably angry lately, mostly at all of the things I can't control, so I've been trying to control everything within arm's reach. These fists start at my elbows.

There's only a photon's worth of difference between filtered and unfiltered samantha lately, and I've been having difficulty keeping inside my head the sort of thoughts that make you back away with raised eyebrows. Just the other day I let slip an enthusiastic ramble about the epic story in my head about the pangolin and the star-nosed mole that go on adventures together. On angry days I hate the curious look that people give me when they get a look at the synesthetic road maps underneath my skin. The truth is risky, and if I could I would snatch my words back before they made it all the way to your ears, like a dollar bill on a string.

Still, there is something soothing in the company and smiles of strangers, something familiar in the heart-thump I get when my favorite tall-dark-and-handsome walks up with a grin because he already knows what I want to order. Outside of my insides is a cool towel on the back of my angry neck. I'm letting my thunder clouds fight all of my battles.

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