I am befuddled, in a brain fog of pills, exercises, and schedules. I am head down, worn down, wrapped, squeezed, and iced. I am always tangled in Velcro, enslaved by 2000 outlets, and 3000 cords. I am in no particular place, doing nothing particular, and thinking how peculiar, particular sounds. I have been manhandled. I try to tie thoughts one to another, pick up a book repeatedly, lean back, and will my body to operate. I pray, quote scripture, and try to “always be joyful.” A perplexing, joyful, puzzle of unmatched pieces with a picture of me on the box cover. I am a June bug tied to a thousand strings. I am befuddled.
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