band-aid

I reach for one distraction after another. there is comfort in diverting my attention away from where and who I am right now. I sit at meals across from friends and ask about their day and how they’re managing and if they’re finding enough time for themselves. sometimes we talk about silly things. we reduce disappointments and lingering sadness to punchlines and laugh. the way I feel about myself occupying space in this strange mode of existence slips out of focus. I call friends I love to hear their voices, desperate to hear anything they’ll offer, to feel a little closer to them and further from the web I fall into between the distractions I stack haphazardly on the list on my desk every day. on a good day I bounce from one to the next with ease. the spiders can’t keep up. with luck I manage hours without listening to myself.

I think about what this means for the long term and committing to this project. can I ever stop and sit in stillness without spiraling into danger? will J always be a hazard to myself? at this point these questions lack answers, which is okay. I will finish writing and slip back into something else. there will be news to read or a task to complete. I will sleep and dream and wake to reports of the deaths of more children whose pain I will never have the strength to truly comprehend. and I will work and busy myself with everything bar my own thoughts and reflection in the mirror. safe and comfortable. a band-aid is always enough for now.