The Butts of Our Lives

I still pray sometimes, when I'm especially overwhelmed. It was installed as a pressure valve when I was young. The only outlet for feelings that didn't also involve destroying things I loved. In between prayers, I ripped up drawings amd poems. Unraveled favorite headbands, and gave away my best doll. Ran down the attic stairs with a prism against my eyes to ensure a fall that was anything but accidental.

In my house we have these two very soft blankets, one  lives in my room, the other is for the couch. When both are not being used, they may be layered on top of each other for Double Blanket. Double Blanket is soothing and soft, and somehow exponentially more comforting than just one blanket. Double Blanket is rare, because usually at least one blanket is being used. Double Blanket is a gift. Today I gave the gift of Double Blanket to my housemate because she was feeling, somehow, both her feelings and my feelings. But then one of her lovers came over and smelled it up with stale cigarettes and Febreeze. Now I have to wash the blankets before I can even have Single Blanket.  I’m much more annoyed by this than I should be. This has somehow made me angry. The flagrant disrespect for Double Blanket. 

My failures get louder at night. The list of incomplete tasks echoes like distant thunder and I know the storm is coming.