Not Sure What the Trouble Was

The reasons all have run away
but the feeling never did.

So many days pass, where I am happy-go-lucky, where I think that perhaps I outgrew whatever anxiety used to permeate my being in the past. Perhaps I am beyond that now. And I believe myself to be a new person, a strong person, a capable woman, after all.

But then obstacles come along and demand to be dealt with, and every old ghost of nerves that had been hiding in the corners creep out and hit me upside the head. Even after the explosion, they linger, they worry, they remind me that dealing, alone, was not enough. Now I must fret every word, every twitch of my eyelid and crooked smile. I recognize old reactions and urges to run, and my fingers tremble slightly as I try to roll a cigarette, chase the shivers away. The weather seems more confused than me; giant snowflakes, like sugar cookies, splatter on my umbrella, tear the cigarette paper so I must give up.

Overwhelmed, by the day, by the obstacles, by the stories of moving boxes and separation anxiety from so many dear friends. We are all a mess, we are all distraught, we are all looking to brighter futures and a hopeful spring. How the weather mimics our souls; or vice versa.

I always get lost, when I leave the Village.
Perhaps I'll just not do that, any more.