Hooked - March 20, 2014

Got hooked badly yesterday, off on an internal tear about someone who gets under my skin, and decided to take a different tack to explore what was under it, which had nothing to do with the person who did me the favor of lifting the scab. Now that is a sad little bag of mixed metaphors which approximately describes my internal state during the conflagration. Until I got down to the tender little nubbin at the core where the whole affair turned from red anger and black turmoil to delicate soft pinks, fragile, throbbing, and watered by gentle brine. This morning I feel slightly bruised and ready to strike out in a new direction as if I have a new map and different territory to explore. Trembling a little at new possibility.