Threadbare soul

A muscle over my right eyebrow twitches. It has been doing this for weeks now. Is it due to stress? Fatigue? Worry? Perhaps this tiny muscle is as worn out as my spirit.

The constant inner cajoling, ("Well, you don't have it as bad as XX, so why are you complaining?") brings recrimination instead of relief. My soul feels threadbare in spots, like a frayed jacket. Any sharp edge or jagged point will cause instant tearing.

I spend a lot of time (too much?) taking the temperature of my spirit. For many months now, it has been cold and dull, its energy sapped. What will bring it back to life? The answer I know, but I cannot allow myself to dwell on it. Dreams too long unfulfilled stand overcrowded, pressing against each other in my brain.

Watching others from the sidelines, I see their shiny, happy faces upturned toward the sun. I stand, waiting in the gloomy shadows.

"Why her?"
"Why him?"
"What's wrong with me?"
"What am I doing wrong?"

Twitch goes the muscle in my eyebrow again--a strange, Elvis-inspired movement. I sigh and brush crumbs from the table. Real life demands my attention. I push away and stand, prepared to re-enter the fray.


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