processing, or the lack there of
2003-10-08
1:13 p.m.
The woman a few cubicles away from me is eating tuna salad for lunch. The smell has infiltrated the office, giving the illusion that we're in a diner instead of the penthouse.
It's one of those days when everything seems right, beautiful, luscious, and yet, there is something amiss. Something that's not quite palpable but lingers like the smell of a tuna salad sandwich eaten half an hour ago.
My body feels heavy today, but my arms are light. It's an odd sensation. As if I've been holding something tightly but have let go, at last, to find my arms useless in their want.
I am powerless with my own yearnings. And distracted by yours. And amazed. And frightened. And hungry...excessively so.