sucker

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  1. bed of lamb 666

    The bonsai screams at me, “sucker!”

    Not really. Just me, being theatrical again. Accusing a plant. Guess I’m feeling a little photosensitive.

    I’ve heard it all before. I read the lines and between the lines. My ears are ringing with discord.

    “I sit there, paralyzed yet fidgeting, trapped in a padded chair with a plastic back and plastic wheels and a lever I keep playing with that suddenly drops me down to play at the kids’ table. Everyone basically has the same chair, and I am sure many people feel the same way I do, yet they play this game a whole lot better than I. I keep getting up, just to get out the chair, and I walk with a purpose to get water, a cup of coffee, to find the bathroom. I see the same people everyday, and sometimes our eyes meet, and I try to purse a greeting but my throat is dry and caked and a gasp comes out and I feel like a grade school boy. All I can do is make sure my shirt is tucked in. You know that feeling you get, when you thought you were so right, but as it turns out, you were so wrong? Not like on a math test or in taking the wrong turn while driving, but when your principles and beliefs are scalded and your unintended hypocrisy comes untucked. You feel it as you walk. Maybe the others don’t care, but you care, and it feels like they care. It’s a humiliation where you can’t help but wince every time you feel its breath on your face.”

    The bonsai greets me with the same terse attitude. I feel the hard wrinkles on my forehead. I hunch over a little more in my chair. Long weekends are not the answer.

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