the same facade

on Wednesday I ride to school under overcast skies full of potential / promising rain / clouds unwilling to cry just yet. the office is empty I have worn my collared shirt for nothing but at least I made it to my desk / got out of bed to play another day. on the screens I flip between jargon and the news, both heavy with the same facade of duty: a responsibility to work and think about the world / to better comprehend my own insignificance / to reconnect with what once fuelled the heart / to remember compassion. the nurse suggests it could just be distraction. working well above her call she says there's something missing between how I am and knowing how I got here. she thinks I'm yet to process my emotions and prescribes a breakdown at my own discretion. if she were a witch she'd fix this all but she's not and she can't. I have to face the lions without divine intervention.