I am so uncomfortable all the time.

I am so uncomfortable all the time.

Every morning, I cut the pattern of my discomfort from fabrics of chagrin, ambition, shame, boredom, fatigue, sensitivity, anger, intellect, hope, desire and indifference.

The texture of my discomfort shears against my skin. I occupy rooms, but barely.

It feels as though there is not much of me with which to occupy anything.

There is more of others. Others who fill rooms with their generous spirits. They are clamorous and demented, supplied with talents foreign to me:

Like laughing, loudly
opening wide their mouths and throats and just
laughing
without constraint.

I only have so much air in my lungs for laughing.
Most things in life are not funny enough for that much air.

I am not a serious person
but I also am.

How do I explain that to anyone?

I can’t help the words I use. I like words. More than pictures.
Try making friends in 2018
with those credentials.

-jules

 

 

3 thoughts on “I am so uncomfortable all the time.

    1. Hi there,
      Thank you! I really appreciate your taking the time to leave a comment. I believe that words are tools that are meant to be used to connect with others, and if mine are succeeding in doing that for you, then I’ve done my job. Hope to see you back here soon, and please feel free to share anything you feel resonates with you!
      -jules

      Liked by 1 person

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