Lately I feel adequate.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Sufficient.
Equal to the need.
For most of my life this has been comfortable, but adequate no longer feels comfortable- it is, as I type, becoming decidedly
UNcomfortable. Like a tiny rock in my shoe that I keep stepping on. “Oh, you again.”
Adequacy served its purpose. I would now like to walk it to the door, thank it for coming, pat it on the back & send it on its way.
And it can take its irritating little rock with it.
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