I want a cigarette

No tobacco for me, though.

Tonight I feel small legs around my neck, tiny feet inside my chest, hands inside my head. I see motion out of the corner of my eyes. Earlier I watched my mother cry while eating dinner. It is her 60th birthday today, but I had little joy to give her; what I had, I did. My parents are out of money, and neither of them has a job. My mother may be well enough to start looking again; she's trying. My father's trying to get on social security for his disabilities, and has enlisted the assistance of a prominent social security law firm. I cannot help them. If I knew why this is happening to them, it wouldn't help them either.

I feel as if a cushion of air that has been flying me above obsidian stones has vanished. I feel as if I've lost something I never had. I feel like an idiot. I cycle through feeling nothing and feeling crushed, feeling only for myself, then feeling everything but myself, and then nothing at all.

This post is almost entirely pointless, nothing more than steam from a pressure gauge, but I'm posting it because I must be reminded how ridiculous my feelings can be, and how I cannot rely on them.