House of straw

[greenstorm]

The week after I feel happy and secure

My dog is hurt
I come to the end of my credit card
I need to stop raising pigs
The first frost strikes right as the tomatoes are about to blush
My workload is increased at work
With plenty of commendations to the people whose work I'm covering
But with the warning that everyone will be watching me
And then, suddenly, knowing my career might be over
Because of a quirk in my brain.
My lover was too busy to talk to me
As is my friend.

I spend the day in bed
Crying
Reminding myself I never should have felt safe
And lamenting the heady taste of things having been ok

Someone makes time for a call. An hour or two.
Somehow there's nothing to say.