Of Newness and Routine

Cocoons Can be Comfy

Something new…

Ooh, most say,

Excitement filling their tones.


It’s more,

Something new?

A question thick with dread.

Heaven forbid I express it, though.

For, inevitably, someone will pipe up

Through my nervousness about

How easy it is.

How simple.

How even a child can do it.

So, surely I…?

As if that does a single thing to

Reassure me?!

No, all it ever does is

Add to the awkwardness and

Cause me to further squirm in

My shame…

For the executive function it takes

To do things I do a hundred times

Can be monumental on its own.

Add too much newness too fast

And the wrinkle is more than wrinkled-

Everything gets wadded up

Beyond all recognition…

But try to get someone to

Actually get that

And not throw your mentality

Straight into the hopeless stupidity



Hence, routine is my friend-

Often my only friend…

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