You Can’t Save the Unsaveably Untogether

Every now and again, I get completely caught up in song, in words, it random bullshit that I just can’t shake out of my head.

In the grand scheme of things, at least on the surface, I’ve got it pretty good. I’m living in an apartment that makes me feel like an adult and I’m viewing it as something that will be a transitional space - somewhere that will do until I can move on to something that I know that I want more. I’m finding work on my own and reaching a point where I feel ready to act on a few ideas that I’ve been cookin’ up for a couple of years now. I have a physician who I trust and - even though she practices in another state - I know that when I’m asked how I am on Friday, I’m going to be honest about it, even though it assuredly is not going to be comfortable.

The problem is that I feel so untogether. It’s 1:30 in the afternoon and I should have finished about three more projects by now - but I haven’t; worse than that, God only knows how many more I’m being hit with today. I’m nervous and anxious and life is inside out. And sometimes I wonder if I’m ever going to be able to twist it right again (and more often than not, I don’t think it’s going to happen).

I haven’t seen some of my closest friends in three months, but I’ll be seeing them over the course of the next few days. I’m strangely nervous about it - I’ve come to like the anonymity of being in the city. I’m nervous too about them asking how I am because I haven’t talked with  them since, well, since my grandfather passed away and as I’ve nearly broken down talking with strangers…