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Red Wine and Thoughts

By @chloekbubloski

Red Wine and Thoughts

I set down my glass lightly enough so that the red wine didn’t flush itself out all over the counter. My hair felt slightly amess as half of it sat atop my crown, as the other half glided down my neck and stopped above my shoulders. Something about the way my hair structured itself in any situation gave me a phantom feeling of structure. 

So much felt wrong about my life. I felt like I was drowning under the burdens and issues each moment presented. Like I could only have a moment of peace before another one came running for my head. The anger, the frustration, the insinuating urge in the back of my mind to be better… it was just too much. 

I stood there, by the counter, alone- but not really alone. I did crave aloneness with all of my being, but I could not seem to find it. Of course, physically, I could be alone as much as I desired. But mentally- well, that had been the challenge of the ongoing rut I could not seem to propel myself out of. My thoughts and frustrations have seemed to have arranged a bounty over my very mind, not resting once until they melt every last bit of solace. Of course, I’m sure a multitude of factors contributed to this bounty- that does not mean I enjoy being hunted.

Says the empty wine glass in my hand.

The thoughts scurrying about my mind pop up like terrifying weasels. I could feel them scratching on the walls of my mind, all up until they break through for the thousandth time to attempt some kind of heist.

An honorable mention of a special little thought is when they deploy other’s opinions onto some survival part of the brain, zeroing in every bit of attention upon said subject. It could be anger, frustration, pain… it doesn’t truly matter. The point is, these infestors make it so they stash my peace in their very own mind bank for themselves, leaving me with simple ********

They then decide to leave, like a cranky customer turning out after a refund for slow service. They slam the door of my mind, initiating snapping back into my actual reality. Suddenly none of their troubles matter, nor should they have ever mattered in the first place. Who gets to decide such things?

I’m not sure.

I walked away from the counter, exhaling the constant parade… or charade, I’m not really sure. I flopped on my white couch, feeling at least a bit unwinded, just enough to sleep.

They didn’t bother me tonight.

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