The Funk

The Funk

You wish you could place your feelings, your emotions, and your physical being into another person so that they would understand everything interfering with your brain. All the vibrations from your body are moving outward like radio waves in search of a receiver, but seem to pass blankly through the audience in front of you, and out to a vacant infinity instead. It’s the days you’re reminded how far you’ve come, or remain, as a human in recovery. Whether from loss, depression, heartbreak, addiction, or maybe something you can’t quite describe—you maintain this funky feeling prompted by nothing.

You attempt to push through or explain it to get the sludge out of your system, yet it remains. Dwindling your glow and working as a contagious substance, it knocks all the people who catch it into a pit of loneliness. If only light could be shed on this crater would every lost person acknowledge that there are others hiding in the same cavity of the universe as well.

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To the Girl I Saw Come Out

It seemed so natural for you to be sitting with your parents outside the diner, but after a few moments it was clear your nerves were ticking. You toyed with your mug, and napkin, and fork, and mug again. You bounced at every new topic, almost too eager to have something else to talk about. You indicated it, or at least, I was perceptive of it. I get nervous like that often – everyone does.

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