There is a glaze over my eyes. I am not here nor there. I have started building a fort out of my paper work. I will hide in it and take a nap. My shirt collar is a little too tight and my pants are doing a weird dance of riding, falling, followed by light binding. It is a dance that should be outlawed, it is unfit for a nice pair of pants to carry on this way. I want to run away and live in the woods where phones don't ring and I can't hear my coworkers breathing.

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I wish I was those rocks. I try and present a front that I am never eroding, that nothing gets to me. And at night, sometimes, I shake and can’t stop it from happening. Words escape my mouth that aren’t fully formed, like gibberish, and all I want to do is be those rocks and feel the water’s arms slamming into me again and again, cutting grooves of eras across my face. The only tossing and turning I do is between the sheets, unable to sleep.

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Someday, when you are all at each others’ throats, you should remember this day when all there existed was one another, the water, and the endless days at the end of summer.

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Every Tuesday after grade school, I had to go to religious classes. One time, I thought I saw a body behind the school and screamed. Everyone came running and the body was gone. I don’t know if there was ever a body to begin with. I would like to think that there was one and I was part of some magnificent scheme. Probably I was just a goofy seven year old with thick glasses and too big of an brain.

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Intrepid warrior on the path through the brook. Protector of those who run the kickball paths. Jumper onto the couch, always seeking true love. Long may you run.

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