A Hurtful Lover

I feel like I am wearing someone elses feet. Today it has been a chore to walk, to take things one step at a time. I haven’t had a day like this in some time, where I have to remove myself from my body, almost as if I am floating alongside it.

My feet feel jelly like, filled with water. They are heavy and it’s all I can do to will them to move. Maybe body parts, like the brain, can be stubborn? I wonder if I prick the soles of my feet with a pin if water would pour out?

Walking has always been a chore for me, a daily exercise in frustration. I have to be careful how much weight I put on them, how much I let them carry me along. Sometimes, if I’m not careful, if I’m not paying attention when I walk, they will turn into face each other as if in greeting.

I know it’s a negative image to look at this twin inside me like an infection. It’s not a disease, nothing like that. More like a parasite that needs me, that requires that I live and breathe for its own survival. I roll my head in hopes that the muscles in my shoulders and neck will loosen and am rewarded with a flash of pain that flies up my neck.

I touch the skin there and it is hard and taunt; the muscle underneath responds to my touch by spasming again, by pressing against my skin.

Maybe I should look at this twin, this other me, like a lover that likes pain instead of a gentle touch? One that is in to domination, controlling my body and my movements so that I move to it’s will?

It’s certainly a better image than an infection.

Besides, infections go away. I was made this way.

About Jamieson Wolf

Jamieson an award winning, number-one bestselling author. He writes in many different genres. Learn more at www.jamiesonwolf.com
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