2022 is a fucking mess

i’ve had a tough couple of years. my marriage ended and i’m about to move into my own home. understandably, i’ve been sad and my writing erratic, but i’ve been reading a lot. a life saving activity if ever there was one.

throughout this process, i’ve limped along rewriting my MS, and i’ve taken to writing out prompts. recently, i wrote a good one and i share it with you here, my imaginary readers of this blog, because it was fun. i’m currently writing it out into a short story, also fun.

god knows, i need fun.

particle.

a particle, singular.

i become particles when floating in air, how you find your way back when where you are depends on where all the other particles are located.

here we are. here.

and here is everything else.

but i dream of the road. it is noisy with trucks and the hauling of nuclear waste. i never see my family in my dreams, nor my friends, and i don’t know what they would’ve looked like as particles. but i see the road. and when i dream of the road, it doesn’t look like this one. it doesn’t look like anything in this world.

above, the sky twists and turns, seems to move fast. it’s weird. but is i that is moving. the movement i feels is random. closer to the road, i move fast and hard, bumping into myself with force. but i float up and away, and my movements are slower, less frenetic. there is math involved but i cannot explain it. i find ease at greater heights. i spread out. what a curious way to exist, as particles. what a curious way to exist.

at work, i am withdrawn. the other drivers talk shop and drink coffee, but i don’t seem to fit their circle anymore. coffee makes me jittery and i switch to decaf, until i read about carcinogens involved in the decaffeination process. methylene chloride. i write it in my writing journal in bold letters, underlined. methylene chloride is carcinogenic.

i switch to water.