...The spell (mental illness)

kept a finger on my lips

for years after. When I try

to measure that time like a

mother checking her child's

progress with a yard stick, there

are gaps in development,

as if two pickets on a fence

were kicked in and the air between

became vague memory.

So I didn't get people.

I still don't. I go blind while matching

dollar signs over people's head.

I'll roam around the room for the time

at the threat of one-nighters on the tongue.

I'm going to need you to explain the rules. Again.

Today, I stayed in bed all morning,

reading about the power

of introverts. Reached a chapter

that corrected me--

actually,

we may be born with this cat-like

personality; life corrects the path

if we ever get too close

to a crowd (and like it).

I think over the events that sent

me to a room with more smiles

than a party and realize, the air between

was destiny.