Dealing.

I see what has happened. I mention it. I push it away. I watch a TV show I can't even remember. Oh yes, The Newsroom. I mention it. Maybe only in my head but not aloud. I sleep.

I wake. I see it. I push it away. I leave for work and see it again and look for sombre or angsty or mellow music, and play it. I write something else, smile at something else. I feel the discomfort within but again, I push it away. I combine anti social with unquiet, and plough through the day. I move on and think and do and say and be. I get done. I am available again. I let myself check and read and click and know and feel. I tear up and shake my head and feel hopeless. I look ahead but not my ahead, someone else's. My future makes a fleeting teasing appearance and I, again, push it away.