Cat Scratches

I am not cut out for working. It gets in the way of my regular life. I have worked one day in the past month. I've been scheduled for two days of work in the next week, and I don't know how I'm going to fit it in. I already made plans to have a life, and work is seriously thwarting that effort. I hate having a job. I hate being broke too. It's not fair. But then, nothing ever is.

I was in the car today for a long time. Long enough to feel that stiffness in my hip and wish I were ten years younger. And I didn't talk. Which surprises most people. But nobody else was talking either. I don't know if it was quiet because we were comfortable together or if we have nothing to say to each other. But I think we probably do. At least I hope we do. I know I do. I have questions. Or really just one. But I don't ask because I'm afraid I don't really want to know the answer. And I think I already know the answer. So I just stay quiet and hope that one day he'll wake up and be psychic. So I won't have to ask or talk or stumble over my words because I always do.

And that's never good because that's why so many people misunderstand me. And that's why people think things about me that aren't true. And that's why people feel pressured by me and trapped by me and there's nothing I can do except let go of them. Because making them understand is impossible. It's like trying to hold a cat that doesn't want to be held. You just get scratched and the cat just gets pissed. So you just have to let it go.