click
and the gears shift. I return, just in time to slam on the brakes. My sight almost refocusing, parched contacts irritating my eyes, but no water comes.
Buried empty feeling in my chest. Buzzy buzzy prickly achey pain crawling along my neckhead and energy constricted to my body makes me flit around in my own skin like a bird searching for perch in a storm.
I haven’t eaten for 28 hours, the longest I’ve gone since I returned from treatment. And I’m shifting in and out of now like weft over warp, without a pattern. Color scheme is slurred and muddy, watercolor weaving in the rain and dry tears, pointellism without a point.
I’m there and then
I’m not.
You see me
and then
You don’t.
you didn’t see me.
But oh, you see me now.
