That Tickles

Sometimes I feel like there are tiny gods crawling all over my body. They itch like crazy, or maybe it is more like a tickle; but not the kind of tickle that makes you giggle with delight but more the kind that makes you shriek and squirm and wet your pants just a little bit. It’s not great. It’s pretty damn weird, in fact.

But, Dostoevskyan scoundrel that I am, I have grown used to it.

I find I am still most high-functioning in the early hours of the morning, unless it is raining. If it is raining, forget it. I might as well go back to bed, except that the tiny gods will never stand for it, and having tried to cross them more than once, I am no longer willing to break out of the routine they have tacitly deemed acceptable. I just want to not be afraid of them, but I am almost certain that is not an option. These are not the sort of gods who want to be your buddy.

But then, do any of them?

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