It’s 7am on a Monday morning and I’m the first one to work. Not the first one in my particular office because most days it’s only me anyways, but the first one – the only parked car – in a block of office buildings. It’s raining outside; the weather matches my mood. I contemplate how there can only be a few weeks left until summer recess.
I’ve been on a merry-go-round of emotions for weeks now. I figured time would settle on just one but around and around I continue to go. Sometimes I’ve got a good grasp, so good in fact that my feet leave the ground and I take flight, laughing hysterically. But the momentum never continues and what feels like seconds later, I’m pulled beneath and it’s all spinning on top of me. I feel like a can that’s been kicked to the curb; banged, dented, still. Used, forgotten, discarded.
I’m in the thick of it. The tickle in the back of my throat tells me my body is struggling to catch up. I understand why.
