Feel My Angst! Feel It! I Dare You!
- Charles Simic
Maybe it started out when I found out the fantastic news. I have an itching problem. I know it’s a nervous condition, but it is what it is and it’s for real.
Let me describe it to you. You know how it is at the end of the day when you get out of your clothes and you just have to scratch your body?
Yeah. It’s kind of like that.
Another way to describe it. Pretend you are standing outside. Suddenly it begins to rain. Sometimes it’s drops or sprinkles. At other times it’s a light and gentle, but constant, rain. Now, pretend that every drop you feel is actually a tiny insect and instead of that drop of rain that just touches you and evaporates, the insect drops on you and tries to acclimate to the spot on you it just dropped on. It doesn’t walk around. It doesn’t fly off. You don’t get to shoo it off. It just picks up its feet and stamps them down on the spot that it dropped on. At least it feels like a tiny bug until you look at the spot where the bug dropped and find there is nothing there.
Delusional? Crazy? Paranoid? No, no, and no. It’s the nerve condition that I have had for several years now. I almost appear like there is something wrong with me; every few seconds, I am reaching up and either scratching or rubbing a spot on my body from my scalp and forehead to my fingertips and wrists to my toes and the soles of my feet.
Itch. Itch. Itch. Itch. Itch. Itch.
On my thighs. On my back. On my cheek. On my hand. On my scalp. In my nose. In my ear. On my other cheek. Under my underarm.
Simultaneously.
And those are the polite places I can tell you about.
Labels: My Writing, Thoughts
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