To say I am numb is an understatement, anesthetized by the switchable scotch tape left in the middle of the tamborine, naked like salty fish left unsalted. I want to scream but have no voice; the screws were left on the file cabinet. I want to react but I am frozen; the ice cube left on the kitchen counter refuses to melt. I want to be mad but can’t get myself to do it; I am stoic, left without fire. I want to forgive but I am too perflexed to even set the table; the utensils were left on the drawer. I want to wipe away the tears but can’t get past the hurt to do it; I am too dejected. So, I am bitter but it is not transcending as bitterness but as a cool and green avocado, the romaine salad on my plate. I am stuck, stupified, dumbfounded, left to say my Amen’s, all of the above bungled up into one basket of life is what you make it, so what? Keep going. I am lived and living but a believer.