The problem with all of this is that there has to be a let-down.
Somewhere, along the way, I will make a left instead of a right. Not by mistake, but because I damn well felt like it.
Because sometimes I get so f@#*ing tired of making that right turn all the time. Of slowing down at yellow lights. Of staying within the legal limit.
Everything is so positive all around me, so rosy, and bright. Everything seems to be going fine.
The cards are all lining up; the pieces seem to be falling in place.
And all I want to do is snatch the cloth off the dining room table and smash as many glasses as I can.
I want to drop the ball on top of a f@#*ing vase, and have it crack down into a million pieces.
There is this headache that refuses to go away.
This fever that has settled deep within my bones that radiates heat at 1:30 at night when all there should be is peace.
Small words like restlessness and discontent seem pitifully laughable.
I want to tear at the smiling images around me and run them through a shredder.
It’s a phase, a step, a circle in this spiral I’m in.
I’ll spin out, soon.
Somehow.
Disjoint Wisdom 