Right now, at this very moment, I feel like I don’t know which life to lead. There’s broken leg life that still hurts from OCTOBER 2*!7. There’s fibroyalgia life. Library life, which doesn’t treat me like I deserve. Retail bookseller life, which is rotten to the manticore.
Each of those pull me in the bad direction. I’m trying to pull the good directions to me. Hula hoop life. Family. My awesome husband. They’re all there. They play a huge part in my life, but the things that hurt take up so much regurgitated brain space in my life that I get bounced around a lot.
I like pinball, but I’m not good at it. I always get the worst score and hit the lamest extra points possible totally by accident. I feel like pinball. I guess, though, that my bonus points are amazing, not loser-riffic.
Life hurts still. I’m not weighing under the oppressive cloud of depression like I did for so many months, but doing what you gotta do to get by maybe isn’t my thing. I don’t think the government has support programs for people like me—people too difficult to work hard enough—but the pinball holes of “loser insert more coins to try again” hurt.
I could really use a bonus round.
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