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What's the sense in being so sensitive...can I trade this thin skin for a shell?
Posted by Slowplum
on
10/04/2006 08:42:00 PM
The autumn blues are fast approaching and with each step my heart gets a little heavier, my words a little slower, my thoughts a little lower.
It isn't that I'm one of those people counting down, anticipating, and thus causing it to come. It just... sneaks up on me and creeps into me so slowly that I can scarcely believe it when it hits. I do my best to fight it off, but there you are.
The trouble with this is, in previous jobs I could more or less decrease my exposure to people and let it pass. Where I am working now, there is no break from it. I am more or less entrenched in socialization, in talking talking talking all day. In a way I guess it's good, but in a way it sort of irritates me. I need space. I can't breathe.
I am smart enough to realize it will pass, as all things do; and the winter will put my heart to sleep and my mind will spin like a snowflake and land in the cold and thoughts will freeze up and I will dry up and wait for spring. And spring will come as it always has and the sun will warm me and my mind will wake up and I will feel alive again.
In the meantime, it's me and my sappy prose. Amigos till the end.
It isn't that I'm one of those people counting down, anticipating, and thus causing it to come. It just... sneaks up on me and creeps into me so slowly that I can scarcely believe it when it hits. I do my best to fight it off, but there you are.
The trouble with this is, in previous jobs I could more or less decrease my exposure to people and let it pass. Where I am working now, there is no break from it. I am more or less entrenched in socialization, in talking talking talking all day. In a way I guess it's good, but in a way it sort of irritates me. I need space. I can't breathe.
I am smart enough to realize it will pass, as all things do; and the winter will put my heart to sleep and my mind will spin like a snowflake and land in the cold and thoughts will freeze up and I will dry up and wait for spring. And spring will come as it always has and the sun will warm me and my mind will wake up and I will feel alive again.
In the meantime, it's me and my sappy prose. Amigos till the end.