Butterfly effect
I am being eaten alive by butterflies. Butterflies wearing steel-tipped, concrete-laden shoes that are using my insides as a trampoline.
Ordinarily, I love the butterflies, but I don’t know if mine are misplaced. I am spending the weekend with a close friend, as I have before, but somehow, things seem different. Broken clocks are right - exponentially more right, and exponentially more often - than I am, and God knows, I can create some ludicrous scenarios in my head.
Besides all of that, this friendship is so valuable - it flourished at a time when I mistrusted every letter of the word. Only an idiot would catch a case of the butterflies now, and I am apparently precisely that idiot.
It takes a massive emotional and mental effort to clear your head of all expectations. Some well-meaning soul once told me that “expectations were pre-planned disappointments.” That sounds about right, and yet.
Get out of your head, K. You have a few hours.
