Lint

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


The little pieces of you that make you feel like an old blanket.

Submitted: August 20, 2018

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Submitted: August 20, 2018

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Lint

 

You turn the rod on the blinds and wish you could rewind the day, or maybe the week.

The sun has set and you don’t want anyone to see in.

Nothing particularly bad happened today, but you think that probably has something to do with why you feel this way.

A nagging loneliness,

a longing for something more,

and you feel as if you’ve wasted it. 

You can’t go back and start loving yourself, so you can’t help wondering what it is you’re supposed to do.

You don’t like the way things have gone.

You can’t complain though,

which probably makes it scrape a little deeper. 

Dryers are built with a lint trap and you start to wish you had something like that.

Something to catch the little things,

the little pieces of things that catch and build up,

even though they’re not big or even sticky.

The little pieces of you that make you feel like an old blanket. 

You sigh and turn away from the widow. The blinds have been closed for a while now, anyway.


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