in need of dry socks

I'm feeling bizarre and unsettled. Maybe it's just a rainy day feeling, or maybe it's the ominous cloud of 'ending' hovering over me despite the fact that the end is actually weeks and pages away. I'm disturbed, disquieted, discomforted.

Today was a day of scissors and glue, and babies and boys. A day of poetry, eating, sharing, and worrying. I sat in class and channeled my anxiety into peeling little flecks of orange paint off of my pencil, trying to reveal all of the soft wood, bending and chipping my nails looking for that organic centre.

My feet are damp and my heart feels soggy.