“it’s not in my toolbox”: a twenty t coloured words expository for the letter t
I only post; I don’t participate – it’s just not in my toolbox. I can’t go tumbleweeding between blogs to read others’ tiger’s eye brilliant contributions. It turns me turtle green. The motion upsets my stomach, my brain, my emotions and my self-confidence.
It becomes sensory overload – my “facebook” effect. I want to do more than just click the teal “like” link; I want to provide positives. But I struggle with words, having to catch them in butterfly nets to wrestle them to the ground. I can’t make conversation sound anything but silted or sarcastic. Once overwhelmed I become a shrinking tropical violet – getting smaller and smaller while the world gets bigger and bigger.
I get overwhelmed, too, as I turquoise surf between blogs, by what others have achieved: number of stories, books and poems published; their ability to write and create across multiple telemagenta platforms; large numbers of true-blue followers and likers; their strength at overcoming tropical rainforest–sized adversities to thrive. I feel even smaller, like Alice swimming with the tenne tawny dodos. I am tea green with envy. My shreds of self-confidence blow away like thistle “parachutes” upon the wind.
The function of sitting at a computer causes physical pain, too. My jaw explodes like thousand-year-old terra cotta, my face is on tractor red fire. My ears scream with titanium white noise. My teeth chew into my gums like a timberwolf.
But, ironically and sardonically, I need to use the computer for distraction from pain – emotional, mental and physical. To dispel the triggers of past traumas. To prevent slipping further into the twilight black abyss.
So, I only post, I don’t participate. It would tickle me pink if I could. A lovely deep shade of tulipy, thulian pink.
featured image: jonkersElias on pixabay.com