at my desk I can sit and spend entire days without thinking of the truth that once kept me bound to my bed. the same truth I pass through in dreams or words and scenes on pages and screens. sometimes I manage a whole day of ignorance - uncrippled by the weight that once sunk every morning. I relish the comfort of too much to do and no time to think. I smile when I should without thinking about what I know is and always will be, no matter how much I give to the life I call work. the truth is too big for emails and grocery lists. when I finish the day I close my screen and walk with my book to the park to feel the sun on my face until the shadows stretch to meet me. I read stories I wish I’d written. I’ll see myself in anything but where and who I am. there can be comfort and joy in telling any story but my own.
I walk through the department store and pass through empty bedrooms. I buy candles and a table for a home that isn’t mine.
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