AND A CONSTANT STATE OF IT - Like when I was very small and it was hailing and my aunt opened the sun-roof to let it in and what is this very strange ice falling from the sky? I did not appreciate it. [I was wearing a blue dress.] Like that feeling when you realize after the fact that it was the last time you were going to kiss him [it never feels like the last time]. Like when we sat in a canoe on the beach and you told me how I had hurt you I didn't know I had hurt you, I wish you would've said something, maybe we wouldn't be in this mess. Like waking up on a not-so-particular Wednesday and realizing that you had been in a dormant state for numerous months. Like when I was two and my dad and his friend were passing me back and forth in the pool, slowly stepping back, farther and farther apart, teaching me to swim I didn't ask to learn to swim, I wish you would just catch me and then all of a sudden the pool is an ocean and I am a flailing anchor, quickly sinking. Like when you go to sleep thinking you are just going to wake up when it is time to wake up but you get woken up by panic - a worried friend. A fire alarm. [That stinking cat]. Like when you build up all of that expectation in your head beforehand and then you return later that night, put your bag on the floor and stand in the doorway for longer than necessary, I did not see it going this way. Like sitting down at night in a hostel and the two guys are speaking in Austrian, and your spine tenses and you sit a little straighter, I don't know what's going on, I wish that I could understand. And the lingering unease from these moments are simultaneously on repeat in my soul and it's pumping through my veins, this sort of feeling of surprise and discomfort, and it's all puzzling. I wake up and I lie in bed in the morning, I get in bed and I lie awake at night, and as I turn over my hand goes to my head and how did I get to this place, and why not some other?