Sand

Yesterday was sloppy: my thoughtlessness ended up hurting a friend.  Being awesome, he has of course assured me that everything is fine, that he's not upset.  

Which is great, except -  I'm still upset.

 

Nobody told my brain that he's not upset.

 

Nobody told my brain that he forgave me.

 

So now, at 9am the next morning, my chest is still tight.

 

I'm dealing with neurological residue - like sand when you get back from the beach.

 

And so, it's time to laugh and scream and eat and make fun of myself, to run and jump and go grocery shopping - to shake loose every last bit of ennui clinging to my chest, to cough and laugh and shout it right out of my body.