a moment that shall pass.

i had a moment today. at work.

standing there in my crisp, freshly-laundered, black suit, itching away at the little red bites, i thought, i am four days away. another year.  and this is my life?

i've had many a moment like this, this past week.

polishing silverware. a moment.

cleaning tables. a moment.

standing in the midst of $500 dollar vacuums. a moment.

on the corner of 59th and madison. a moment.

lying in a bug infested bed with a boy who i did not wish to kiss. moment after moment after moment.

i could collect these moments. string them together. wear them as a necklace--a warning sign. trouble here. keep walking. 

"i'm damaged bad at best" paul elliot sings and most days i walk around wondering if people can see that phrase emblazoned on my irises. i see the world through a series of scars that make letters that make words that make a thought.

last night as i lay in a bed not my own, i reached into my memory and watched as the last four years clouded over. steam obscuring images obscuring truth. 

this--all of this. this is not an act of courage. it is cowardly and selfish. i write because i cannot speak. i am a mute parading as an artist.