I am not greeted as I enter, and I feel awkward as people stare at me and do not say hello.
In the morning I am thinking of how uncomfortable it made me feel. I talk about my feelings, I guess this is my first mistake.
I am told I am un-pleasable.
I am not the un-planet Pluto in the vastness of the solar system.
I am not the circumnavigation of the ocean on a row boat.
I am not the Sahara desert with no water or shade.
I am a verdant forest with a waterfall and slate stream rilling through I am surrounded by lady slippers, lush ferns and jacks in the pulpit, I am trout leaping in rainbow mist, I am the song of water, I am a fawn dappled in the sun, I am a lizard basking in the sun, I am a red eft, a black salamander spotted with yellow, I am a fox, lapping at the water.
What you mean is, I am not worth the small effort it takes to please me. I am not worthy of kisses to my neck and shoulders. I am not worthy of having strong arms wrapped around me. I am not worthy of a date even. I am not worthy of being told Hello, we missed you. Glad you are home. What you mean is, you do not care enough to please me.
I am told, you have changed. I hear, I don’t care for the person that you are. Loud and clear.
I am in my spacesuit un-tethered.
I am parched in the noon sun of the desert.
I am in an inner tube somewhere in the arctic sea.
I have fallen through the ice in the tundra in January.