Socially inept

It's one of those collapsing-mind days when the universe implodes. It has been coming all weekend, but the brain chugged full throttle into deconstruction when I woke up this morning. Recent progress seems like a house of toothpicks built without glue. It has fallen (or did I knock it over deliberately?), and the task of reassembly seems too enormous. I want to leave everything and drive; walk when I run out of gas and money. Maybe I'll wander into a new life, preferably fall onto a different planet.

The feeling won't last. I've grown confident, at least, that tomorrow does not need to feel like today. I know a few nurturing tricks, and will attempt them.

But other ideas that seemed useful aren't working. As hard as I try to become more active in the world, I seem to possess instinctive, unconscious strategies for distancing myself from people. By the time I'm aware, I've already closed another door, and the brain holds no key.

I hate saying these words because I know they can hurt people who care about me. Don't take it personally. I haven't the grace to stuff it in a sock, and this is my world today.