cabin fever

the sky opens blue above me, but snow drifts by, somehow. they land on my cheeks like pinpricks, and i blink to keep them from my eyes. all day, i hear about things that have fallen over from the winds; trees, recycle bins of glass, a porta-potty. for a few moments, the world seems too hostile. for these moments, i can hardly convince myself to step outside of a building.

but i feel the suffocation of solid walls, filtered air, unquiet electronics. i feel the world as impossibly small, unavoidably ordered, inescapably futile. i feel the pressure from a building full of people i cannot see, in rooms above, below, and beside mine. i can reach in front of me and touch objects, but i cannot hear the wind blow.

all challenges are a gift; they are puzzles to be met and worked on.

04 April 2018 19:51

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