Awkward

Feelings during the beginning of a depressive episode with a sandwich.

I look for the words to describe
How it feels to only take
Small and distinct bites of
A Ham and Cheese sandwich
Cut into triangles.
My entire being feels like tiny
Bites, trying to stay out of
Any line of vision, yet living
With crisp breaths and precise
Steps.
Don't look at the chips that
Disappear behind my lips to
Slide down my throat, leaving
Salt left over and a numbness
On my tongue.
I feel every fabric, every surface
Every wisp of a plastic bag
That passes through my fingers
Like I have never felt before
Like my hands and nerves are new
Like everything has been
Reborn
My spaces are normally so
Close together like luggage for
A week-long trip
But now the words cannot touch
For fear of contamination between distinct
Bites.
Swallow. Chomp. Chew.
In a pattern
And feel the comfort of the repetition
I look for the words to describe
How awkward I feel in my own skin.