Day 560, January 13, 2022

 Bad Days

Good days feel like any other day. Bad days are like the hollow feeling before tears come. We live in two separate houses. In one we are nudists, in the other, we are not. I specialize in writing two chord songs. Every sentence of mine ends in a diminuendo. Today, I was a hollow balloon tethered only to small bite sized chocolate bars and an incessantly refilled cup of tea. Someone rode a skateboard outside the office, the rackety clack against the giant pavers. Back and forth, back and forth, and then, today, they were just not feeling it, and were gone. My heart goes out to the disappointed skate rat, such a short ride. Missing something more than just the sheen of granite surfaces. The routine has become so desolate I just want to scream. But I am not the screaming type. On death defying rollercoasters I break out in uncontrollable laughter. I suppose that is why I am laughing now, that or I just can’t hear you and thought you said something funny. 


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