If Contents Ignite, Keep Door Closed and Unplug Oven

Ho hum.  Another day; another week; another to-do list ticked partially ticked off and forgotten.

Oh.  You again.  What are you doing here? 

I know, I know.  We used to be the best of friends…but times have changed, kid.  I don’t need you anymore.  I’ve outgrown you; moved on, I guess.  I don’t want that hollow feeling — I want to feel full.  You just don’t do it for me anymore.

Why can’t I feel full?

Why won’t you go away?

You’re always there: lurking in corners; malingering; shape-shifting.  I think you’re gone, and then you’re not.  You hide in the moments when I remember the empty aches; and the notgoodenoughs; and the women I didn’t look like; the things I couldn’t give; the control I didn’t have.

But I don’t miss you anymore.  I just want you to go away.

It’s a war, you see, between you and me.  And no matter how this battle of the wills is sliced, soon enough, you are going to be toast.

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