Before I started this diary yesterday, I hadn't written anything in a very long time. I'd forgotten what it was like to automatically focus everything you observe through the lens of "How could I describe that?" I'd forgotten how to stretch my adjectival muscles, where I'd left all of my $10 words, and why I used to like writing so much.
The tiniest disappointments magnify themselves today. A moment's pause waiting for a man to step from the subway made me sneer and roll my eyes in frustration. The lack of bagels when I arrived at work almost made me cry.
Despite this brittleness, this fragile, easily punctured pastry crust that is all that protects my well-being, I can feel myself on an upswing. Jabbing viciously at thoughts that so nauseated me yesterday produces only a vague twinge today.
I just need one day without some wretched, wrenching thing. Until then I'll continue to subsist on cups of mind-bogglingly horrendous office coffee, and wonder why I forgot my Starbucks coupons at home again.