Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Five
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So sore. Sore from what?
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Nettles instead of coffee.
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Cool breezes. Still exhausted. Not sure why I’m so tired. Is it the swan making that honking sound?
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Lunch in bed.
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The feeling of needing to escape but unsure of how to do it and that’s when the panic sets in. No good choices are made in fear. Shift the stream of thought.
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Where do I have power?
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There is always an excuse.
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We stand outside the gate and watch the end of practice. I tell him that I’m so tired and so sore. I just don’t feel well. “Stress,” he says.
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We moved here a year ago. Been in this house a year. I still haven’t bought an extender for the duster.
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Push through or surrender?