Nerves of spaghetti, you tell her and feel it resonate into your leg muscles. Certain you've done difficult things before, you clench your teeth and vow to make it through this, too. It's not like you're going to war. Except, perhaps, against your own senses.
It takes all day to construct a sentence. Takes all day to remember even your most shallow breaths. The noodles take up too much of your time, you've lost a whole life to the synapses sparking wildfires in your head. It's too sunny, too warm, to regret it now, but you know the sadness will catch up with you come fall.
A whole life lost
and to what?
You promise yourself silently
to at least appreciate when you get it
right.
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