Springing a Leak


I chose a table out of sight.  Not exactly a corner, but behind the beverage station and as quiet as could be found in a lively place.  It wasn't crowded or anything, being eleven AM on a Thursday, but I was there to get some work done and needed little distraction.  Maybe also, I knew it was coming.  And I was drawn to a bit of privacy in a public setting.

The tidal wave had been building all week.  Vivid dreams.  Strange things keeping me from real rest. An active sleeping period that's left me drained in the morning, even when falling into an exhausted heap at nine the night before.  Moments of intense anxiety.  A scratching feeling on my gut and the desire to scream that I didn't want this to be this way.  I wasn't ready.  I don't accept this.  I can't really get this.

I nestle into my semiprivate kind-of-corner cozy spot and flip open my notebook to start clicking away and a Simon & Garfunkel tune floats over the air waves and without the most minute chance of stopping it, I've sprung a leak.

And they drop.  And they come.  And they kind of feel good but I have to face the wall because I don't want anyone coming over, "Oh, honey, whatever's the matter?"  So I let them fall.  And I tell myself to stop.  But I don't because I can't.  And I don't really want to anyway.

And here I sit eight hours later with the same leaky system.  Dropping my pain and cleansing my brain and feeling this all over again like it just happened yesterday.

And so it shall be.  From time to time.  Forever and ever.

A hole that will never be fixed.  A system that will always leak.

Image Credit a-1 American.com.

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