Small

Yesterday I was driving my little car and the driver of a Dodge Ram pick-up wasn't looking and veered slow motion into me. At least it seemed like slow motion. The truck hit my back driver side door, rather than the door that was protecting me. I watched as it happened, and there wasn't anything I could do but brace myself for the blow which was really more of a bump. Funny though that I'm so sore after such a small thing. I'm beginning to see a pattern here. The small things hurt too, but we're not supposed to talk about that.

^

There are ten doors in my small one bedroom apartment. Lately I have only walked through a few of them. Small spaces can be comforting, like blanket forts. If I had a fireplace I would be almost whole. I love stacking kindling and firewood, lighting the match and watching the small flame bloom and change color as it grows. I don't know what I've done wrong. But I think it must be something. I must have looked left when I should have looked right. This life isn't what I thought it would be. So in addition to giving up caffeine, I'm giving up thought. I know this story about a girl. She could only cry in public spaces. How embarassing for her. If I was still thinking, I would say "she'll be ok." But really, who knows... I don't.