Skies and soles

My insides felt just like the stormy weather brewing in the sky above me as I drove home today after leaving work early. For some reason I couldn’t shake the fear that I was being rejected again. It’s not a good feeling, wondering if you have been backed into a corner like a caged beast.

I had fallen apart again at work, this time having been the first in a number of years. The great love of my life had been silent for hours, and I had been knocking at the door of his iPhone 5 the entire time. I was beat; called it quits; admittedly lost.

Everything had me on edge, from the people I spoke with on the phone to the people sitting around me, to the Styrofoam coffee cup on my desk. Nothing made sense while I was in this tailspin.

My heart was in the soles of my shoes and in my throat at the same time. Is it possible to feel dead and never more rabidly sensitive in concert?

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