Paranoia

There’s an itch in the back of your head that you just can’t find

You’re scratching and scratching…your nails fidgeting against your scalp but it’s useless

You can’t seem to find that sweet spot, you can’t ease the irritation

But you know it’s there, even though it keeps eluding you

You can feel it, you can sense it

You ask someone else to try their hand and no matter how much they part your hair, how tangled their fingers become, you cannot seem to direct them enough to give you satisfaction

So you’re just there, with tousled hair and an itch that won’t dare go away

You head to the shower; maybe a rinse is what you need

You lather, you rinse, you repeat

But for what? Nothing soothes that discomfort that you feel

So you dry your hair and step out…a coldness takes you. You shiver.

You wrap the towel around you and you dash across the icy white tiles into your bedroom and search feverishly for your oversized tshirt to toss over your body

You find it, you put it on. You slip into the rest of your clothes.

Now you’re hungry.

You gallop to the kitchen; your bare feet no longer bothered by the temperature below it. You bend down and reach for the bowl of leftover mac and cheese and toss it in the microwave to reheat

You glaze across the floor once more and look for something to entertain you while you have a quick meal

Scrolling through the TV guide: a movie, a half hour sitcom, a forty five minute drama and action filled new episode

Your options are vast and you stand there, remote in hand, deliberating your fate when you’re distracted by a beep.

You plop on your couch and you put on the sitcom; something light tonight will set just the perfect tone

Twenty minutes in and you’re scraping the cheese with your fork as you aimlessly stare at the coloured screen

You eventually become conscious of yourself and run across the room, tossing the bowl in the sink and grabbing a drink between ads

You lazily slide back onto the sofa and tuck your feet beneath your legs and take a sip of that cold beverage

You swallow. You prop your hand on the arm rest and your head in your palm and start unconsciously stroking your head, and then

Just like that, you remember.

That itch in your head that you momentarily forgot because you got distracted for enough time to make it almost nonexistent

But there it is again, it’s back and stronger now, more than ever

It’s going to keep you up all night, you know it and no TV show, no late night snack craving is gonna suffice

It’s just gonna be you and that itch

That annoying, irritating, can’t get out of your head no matter how much times you try to fight and fix and appease it, itch

That’s gonna have you tossing and turning, uneasy and unsettled, aggravated and frustrated, for the rest of your night

 

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