I am the flat basketball that never gets the air. That new red playground ball that got impaled on the bush during kickball at lunchtime recess.
Yesterday was a hard day, today is a new one. Tomorrow will be something else. I define myself by failure, I define myself by not being who I want to be. Can one develop self-confidence when one does not know who he is?
How am I doing?
I am thinner and in blessedly better shape than five years ago; my blood pressure is manageable. I look better than I have since the Clinton Administration. I have more hair on my back than I think I ever did on my head, even in the Mr. Sensitive-Pony-Tail-Natalie-Merchant-is-a-genius-year.
How am I doing?
When I hear a noise, I jump. When people look at me I think they will attack me. My school is closing and there isn't anything I can do about it. I hear angry voices of which one is my own one is dead and one ceased talking to me years ago. I'm not alone in wanting to beat the living hell out of 50% of the people I see, am I?
How am I doing?
I know I'm a mess but don't know where to start cleaning. I know clocks are ticking but I don't know what time it is. I know other people are dependent on me but I have to get my own mask on first. I know that the fire alarm was pulled but I don't know how to get out of this building.
How am I doing?
I regret being in this teeming jungle of neuroses. I regret abuses of my childhood or my adulthood. I regret lies I have told myself or others. I regret being weak. I regret thinking my friends and a wife whose talents and beauty are beyond my simple powers of description will run away from me at high speed if I say what I want to in answer to their question of how am I doing.
Yesterday was a hard day, today is a new one. Tomorrow will be something else. I define myself by failure, I define myself by not being who I want to be. Can one develop self-confidence when one does not know who he is?
How am I doing?
I am thinner and in blessedly better shape than five years ago; my blood pressure is manageable. I look better than I have since the Clinton Administration. I have more hair on my back than I think I ever did on my head, even in the Mr. Sensitive-Pony-Tail-Natalie-Merchant-is-a-genius-year.
How am I doing?
When I hear a noise, I jump. When people look at me I think they will attack me. My school is closing and there isn't anything I can do about it. I hear angry voices of which one is my own one is dead and one ceased talking to me years ago. I'm not alone in wanting to beat the living hell out of 50% of the people I see, am I?
How am I doing?
I know I'm a mess but don't know where to start cleaning. I know clocks are ticking but I don't know what time it is. I know other people are dependent on me but I have to get my own mask on first. I know that the fire alarm was pulled but I don't know how to get out of this building.
How am I doing?
I regret being in this teeming jungle of neuroses. I regret abuses of my childhood or my adulthood. I regret lies I have told myself or others. I regret being weak. I regret thinking my friends and a wife whose talents and beauty are beyond my simple powers of description will run away from me at high speed if I say what I want to in answer to their question of how am I doing.
