hidden

I saw her at the refrigerator when the hall opened into the office kitchen. I get to work earlier than most, so there was no one else around. She was going to say something.

“Good morning. How are you doing?” She only glances to see it’s me before turning back to what she’s doing. I muster a short reply and rinse off a plate from yesterday. I empty my water bottle and move to the other refrigerator, the one with the filtered water in the door.

“I haven’t seen you the last few days. Have you been hiding back there?” She asks. She seems interested, but isn’t. It must take a lot of energy to keep up such appearances.

“Little bit maybe,” is all I can think of.

Maybe I have been. Lately, social interaction has been exhausting. Just keeping up with conversations without falling too hard into my head has been taxing. I can’t find a reason, but there rarely is one. This sort of thing comes and goes. This round of fogginess has been around longer than usual.

I have been getting home from work, watching television or a movie in my room and ending up sleeping less than I would like most nights. I’ve had to mentally prepare myself for any instance I’ve been in public and even then I haven’t always been comfortable. My birthday came and went with just a dive-bar dinner and a discount movie.

Sleep has been difficult. I have been laying awake in the dark, waiting for my brain to turn off or at least quiet itself. Nothing out of the ordinary has gone on outside my neurons, but they’ve still been firing like I need to categorize a massive to-do list. The naps during lunch haven’t done enough to clear the tired haze I’ve been walking in. My eyelids play tricks on me. I’ve fought them to stay open most of the day and then fought them to close at night.

Conversations got away from me. I perceived things not how they were, but through a kaleidoscope of strange thoughts. The lack of sleep, combined with general confusion, have been making me irritable and moody.

I’ve forgotten to say things, thought I’ve said things I actually haven’t or have said too much. I’ve felt awkward and imagined my many misspeaks and missteps as I’ve fumbled through discussions. I’ve distanced myself to save face, to not look like an ass.

Things are clearing. I still sleep less than I’d like, but more than I was. I’m still irritable, but have my moods mildly in check. Soon I’ll be rested and things will be back to normal.

Maybe every once in awhile I just need some time to reset myself. It’s when I start trying to keep up with things going too quickly that I end up disorientated.

She walks behind me, around the counter and back down the hall to her office. Maybe she’s right and I’ve been hiding away in my cubical. Considering I had two meetings with her yesterday afternoon—each almost an hour long—I haven’t had to try very hard.