When I woke up this morning my eyes were swollen shut.
That was cool.
I fumbled around for a good ten minutes before I could really open them up all the way, and even then my eyelids felt unbelievably heavy. It wasn't until around lunchtime that they finally simmah'ed down. Weird.
I'm having trouble understanding how I feel at this very moment. I should be exceedingly happy right now, and I am, I think. Yet at the same time I feel....odd. The majority of me is "with it," but there is this tiny part of me that feels detached, stretched, dragged, elongated past its limit. It wants to follow in directions completely opposite of the one toward which I'm heading. I tell myself to snatch it back, reel it in, because of course I can't scatter myself in more than one place.
I'm not omnipotent. (Bummer.)
But then I ask myself: why can't I allow that miniscule fraction of me to wander? What is the harm in spreading all of me about, in being a little flighty? Surely there can't be anything wrong with that, especially since the attraction and allure of this opposite path stems from an unspoken invitation.
Something beckons that sliver of me toward it, knowing full well that with its minute size, resistance would be futile.
I think for now I'll let it fall captive.
I guess we'll see.