pot stirred and stoppered

There’s probably a word for this feeling in some other language. This feeling of emotion built up and stuck. “Uptight?” Nope. It’s like a pressure cooker.

Last night was fitful sleep…as in I kept having fits. At one point I was certain I was being held by the shadow of a man. I couldn’t turn; couldn’t move. I told myself to wake up; that this couldn’t be real. It took a while to rouse myself, and when I did, I looked around for him. Even then I’m not sure I was awake.

So there is leftover feeling. Anger gets shit done. Of the various feelings bottled inside, I choose that one because I can wield it like a weapon. Unfortunately, the only target I have at present is myself. Perhaps I chose poorly.

2 Comments

  1. Itzel

    I love that you are writing again everyday. I always loved reading your posts. Still do, still come and read about you.

    I hope we see each other soon. I’d love to talk to you and hang out.

    XXX

  2. weez
    weez

    Itzel! Love ya back. Glad you exist, hon.

Leave a Reply to weez Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *