Wet Shirt
So picture this: you're doing something physically taxing.
I'm thinking maybe a run or strenuous hike, like one of those hikes that seems to go uphill since yesterday. Whatever it is you're engaged in,
You are soaked with sweat. But this reality doesn't quite hit you
Until you stop to rest, you lean against something
And your shirt-your moist, soggy shirt-
Presses against your back and it feels like a slug or squid or some other gross slimy thing from nightmares
And you arch your back trying to get away but there's no getting away
And you start to think it would be better
To carry on your trek without the shirt
No matter how exposed and vulnerable and maybe embarrassed you might be.
Or picture you're just getting home from a long day at work. Like, a really long day where everyone called out and you had to cover every single shift.
And you sit for the first time all day, it feels like the first time since childhood.
And you take off your shoes.
And your feet would sing hallelujah if they could.
Now, these could be the most expensive shoes in the world,
The most comfortable pair of shoes you've ever worn, it feels like you're walking on clouds and rainbows and marshmallow fluff.
But you've been wearing them all day and it feels so good to take them off and, in this moment, you think how nice it would be to never have to put them on again.
Or have you ever driven home from work and when you pull into your driveway
It's like you just woke up even though you were never asleep?
You have zero recollection of even starting your car, pulling away from work and onto the freeway.
This is nicknamed Highway Hypnosis.
It happens when your brain is so accustomed to and bored by the routine
That it can just sort of turn off.
Look, I don't mean to call you names like wet shirt
But I think these are all pretty good metaphors about our relationship.
I'm sorry and I'm not sorry
But I just can't do this anymore,
The relationship, that is.
Metaphors to describe it I can keep doing.