Whence she felt mistaken

She liked the feeling of pulling a shirt over her head, admiring the reflection of new fabric against her skin, only to peel it off a moment later and start again. Somehow it provided enough change for her, even if her environment remained the same. Moving away far off seemed too drastic, too unfamiliar for her current disposition to proceed with ease. Moving a few miles away promised too much effort on her part and too many familiar things. Same mailman, same grocery store, same kids biking around the neighborhood. Her body yearned for change. Actual change. Change that gets a person thinking, dreaming, really feeling like they are heading towards a destination. Different scenery in the same town mirrored rearranging furniture in the same living room it has rested in for years.

And she tried that already, moving her furniture. She thought it might allow her to feel something because she acts too much like a broken in animal in other ares of her life to experiment with the types of things that encourage a person to feel. Her leather sofa with the book she feel asleep reading to on its arm rest has moved eight times with this past month.

Just yesterday, she gave up and considered trying her hand at alcohol. Although, after choking down three sips of rum she decided trying to feel shouldn’t feel so unpleasant. Or perhaps she wasn’t trying to feel at all anymore. Perhaps she desired to numb herself to the lack of change around her. And perhaps all of this didn’t feel so familiar after all, because there had to have been a time where the familiar presence of consistency meant the world to her. A time where she wouldn’t have changed her life for anything in the world.

Caught in the whirlwind of her mind she suddenly broke loose, realizing that she had changed. Somewhere between contentment and dissatisfaction her disposition was changed. It is no wonder everything around her had looked so different from the perspective of her strange new eyes. Perhaps, she didn’t crave change at all, but something to remind her of who she once was.

Published by Anna Buck

"everything was beautiful and nothing hurt."

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