On Loss

I think I may have lost my mojo. I’m almost sure I had it at one point. I think I might have been sexy once. Way back, last summer, maybe. The most alluring thing about me now is my side bang, which hangs ever so seductively in my face and sometimes gets in my eye, forcing me to twitch.

I told this guy I was a klutz and he was amused. If only he knew.

I go to my Inbox and it’s empty and then I know for sure I don’t have it anymore. I may actually be flattered if ever I am the subject of a catcall by construction workers. I might even smile.

I am thinking I need to make another mistake, shake myself up a bit. Even if it’s not right, I need something real, in the flesh. I need something not-numb. This is what’s called maladaptive behavior, and I like it.