Even dweebs get prebirthday blues

Where have the words gone?

I’m restless. Always on the verge of something — something I can almost reach but dodges me, evading my grasp.

Days dissolve into history and histories merge into a lifetime and I stand by the roadside inertly watching it hurtle in a warped speed.

Possibilities simmer in every throb of every vein yet something intangible causes indefinable intuition of being ill at ease.

What’s with all this restlessness?

Someone stop the universe, I want to get off. I am getting faint. Malevolent storms threaten in every corners of my skin. Bail me out. Pacify these ominous tempests. They are drowning me into dreariness. Save me. Get me out of here.

Like most everyone, I, too, need occasional rescuing.

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About Kenneth Theodore

I translate ethnic slurs. View all posts by Kenneth Theodore

11 responses to “Even dweebs get prebirthday blues

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