On days like today I feel so very much like a puppet, my physical being controlled by some mysterious external force.
My alarm jars me awake before 6 a.m. and invisible strings jerk me up by my shoulders.
I dress, brush my teeth, wash my face with wooden hands that feel heavy and not quite coordinated.
My knees are loose and rickety and there’s a noticeable point of tension bordering on pain in the upper left side of my back as I’m capered along down the cool, quiet, gray sidewalk by whatever omnipotent manipulator is pulling the wires. One word creeps into my struggling mind as I try to describe this feeling: unwilling.

Today I’m just so unwilling, with my monochromatic uniform, my aching feet, my peach mango flavored Activia.

But I guess that’s how a lot of people feel on Monday.


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