Weeks with no conclusion and bellies full of bile corroded me from the inside out.
Sleepless nights full of rotating hysteria, monsters under my bed.
This morning I opened all the windows. Blared Paul Simon though the house and danced my fucking ass off. I danced like no one was watching, or like everyone was and I couldn’t give two fucks less. Arms swimming, feet stomping, tears in my eyes, bumping into furniture, it felt good.
I thought of my dad, a lover of Paul, an overall inspiration. And let myself feel lucky for my family. For our health and everything that has gotten me this far.