There are times when I give a massage where the time just flies. The body is receptive to the massage, the music is perfect, and a rhythm of give and take begins to flow. That’s not every often, but it is always fun when it occurs. Most of the time, it feels natural and simple, but is hard, sweaty work. Then, there are others, where it seems to last forever, the feel of the skin beneath your hand literally has you trying to disguise your gagging in pretend coughs or yawns. Times where no matter how much you wash yourself afterward, you wanna take a potato peeler to be able to get the feel of their skin off yours. Thus was the case. I almost stopped the massage five minutes in. I didn’t think I could get through it. However, I remembered that I was broke. That my brother’s birthday is this week and my folks’ birthdays are next week. I made it through ninety minutes—though it felt like hours.
After, I ground my coffee bean and set the timer for the coffee maker to start brewing while I’m in the shower tomorrow. I’ve noticed that my typically fairly white teeth are not quite as bright as they used to be—I’m sure this addition to my morning routine is a deathblow to one of the few physical features I have confidence in. However, you should smell my fingers right now. No, really. They smell amazing! You would totally wanna suck on them. Not like you didn’t before, I suppose, but still.
I won’t go on and on, but as I have said before, this week the anger stage came back, and what a relief it has been. It has been the first time I have been able to breath in weeks. However, today, while I miss all aspects, I ache for my best friend. I seem to have forgotten how to talk, really talk to anyone else—or maybe simply lost the desire to do so. I wonder if I will ever really feel whole again, like part of me isn’t missing.