thread

it’s startling, really, how a simple object collecting dust around the house can leave you whimpering on the ground like a dying rat.

and then, once you’ve gained a bit of your composure, you look around and realize that even from the vantage point down here on the floor every god damn item within eyeshot leaves you reeling.

even a poster hanging in the kitchen immediately takes you to another place and time. two, actually. one was happy and fun and carefree. the other was a weeping mess. and right now, both times bring tears. again.

you close your eyes.

this is absolute bullshit and you’re not going to do this anymore. GET UP.

you open your eyes again.

a chipped coffee mug. an empty chair and desk. a little polar bear figurine from the Japanese store that you’re supposed to use to rest your chopsticks.

could that really be four kinds of flour on the shelf?

deep breath.

you’re going to be OK. 

and then you see the ragged pair of men’s slippers. black. pieces of fabric hanging on by a literal thread. they’re worn out. they look tired. they’re barely keeping it together. when they fall apart for good, you wonder if everything will. or if it already has.

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