I feel uncomfortable in my own skin. I don’t mean that as a cliche equivalent to social awkwardness. No, it’s more in line with the fact that my muscles, joints, and bones feel stressed and out of place.

That perpetual feeling that comes from lack of exercise. My body telling me that I’m under nourished, under developed, under utilized. Is that it? Do I really have more potential? But even when I do exercise, I pull something and my body breaks. I’m made of glass. 

I can’t help to be annoyed by the things I can’t control. The wind blows my hair out of place and ruins its volume. The sun’s blinding rays prevent me from seeing where I’m going, burns my skin, and makes me sweat. What is a “beautiful day” to you? I bet we don’t agree. All of our ideas of what we find preferable are obviously different, but what happens when your preferences are a minority? A pleasure for one is another’s misery. 

No matter how hard I try to understand people’s thoughts and inclinations, I find myself at a loss. I have come to the point of acceptance, but jealousy of others’ comfort is fierce.

Today, I find myself trying to find a relaxing way to stand against the wall, but I can’t. My shoulders just won’t align in the correct position. And then, I become aware of my own tongue. Please don’t think of this. If you also become aware, I will have done something terrible. This is truly the worst feeling. I’m sorry.

Just calm down. Relax. Take a deep breath.

I return home. Strip off my clothes. Wash my face. Open a beer.

It’s better.

I can find some relaxation finally. I really wish I wasn’t constantly at odds with this body.

I am my own Frankenstein.