Tuesday, December 15, 2009

The best medicine

I couldn't breathe. I doubled over. My entire body shaking, convulsing. My belly seized up and I gasped as my eyes teared up. My hands seemed to have their own life, moving every which way as I struggled to get the words out.

This was after a day of realizing that I had three days worth of studying to do and only one day in which to do it. A day of realizing that my job prospects weren't so much prospects as they were mirages in the desert. A day of looking at my to-do list and seeing fifteen things that must absolutely get done in the next twenty-four hours. A day of freezing temperatures and an interview that required a skirt and heels. A day of eyes bleary from staring at my computer screen too long.

I stamped my foot. I snorted. I thumped my thigh with my hand. I saw stars. I saw darkness.

I hadn't laughed so hard in ages. Laughing till the sides of your mouth can't open wide enough. Laughing till your belly feels like it'll pop with every peal. Laughing till you can't breathe anymore. Laughing till your eyes water and scrunch up tight. Laughing till your hands go weak.

I tried to explain to D that he'd somehow made the world all glowy and warm, that even the white clouds seemed to have silver linings, that my heart must've tipped and let the weights slide off itself.

I couldn't though. I was too busy letting out peal after peal of laughter.

I think I sounded like a horse.

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