MY TELLING SELVES

My contribution

The self who woke up on morning, never looked in the mirror, put something on from the sea of clothes on the floor and walked out the door to buy milk even though a ton of shopping was done the day before and everyone swore nothing more was needed.

The self who made a coffee then the cat needed feeding then the father fell, thump, and this coffee was never drunk, sipping instead the insipid offerings of the local ER.

The self who stared out of the window at the new town-house development next door; noting how the placement of the middle one would block the sky and each new dawn.

The self who asked her son's friend for some weed because the nerve pain was so bad there could only be lying on the side in bed, whimpering, "why did you have to crash into the back of me?", the conventional meds adding even worse side-effects.

The self who drove twice past the place because a thought emerged so profound it merited this up the street, around the roundabout, down the street and back again, just to retain enough of it for later.

The self who wondered if the world's gone mad, after witnessing a car with two bikes on its roof enter an underground car park and despite the warning signs, drive into the overhead pipes, ripping bikes and roof-racks off and a couple emerging both clutching mobile phones.

The self who was told repeatedly that freedom is a day away and lived that day and the next day and never reaching it, made it up.

The self shutting down because too much bullshit floated from the café tables and it became impossible to think in anything but absorbed acronyms.

The self who walked up and down hills to prove that age is irrelevant despite twice falling and once skinning knees and several times cursing time.

The self who witnessed a woman screaming at a child and saw the fear in the child's eyes and tried to intervene and was told to "bugger off you b***h".

The self who woke one afternoon and thought it was morning and wandered downstairs to make coffee and saw the table set for dinner.

The self who said "tomorrow is another day," as consolation and proved it because the next day was another day, never mind it was the same day over.

The self paying for the old man's groceries because he counted coins and the self counted faster, realising there weren't enough.

The self pressing the 'publish' button and suddenly feeling very naked in a very public place, looking to hide and finding clothes in others' words.

The self insisting there is always more to learn and resisting the temptation to stop, despite there being no one to share this knowledge with.

The self spending an hour watching a spider weave its web, following each step with avid interest as though intending to repeat it.