It sits there. On my computer. Right next to my mini Sheldon.
It's there in my car. Next to me. In the cup holder.
It's next to my bed. On the nightstand. Waiting.
There's one in the bathroom, too.
I continually choose to ignore it. To forget it's there. To ignore the smoke signals, the reminders, the quiet whispers, the louder shouts. I ignore them all.
"Go ahead, grab me! You know you need me!" It boasts.
"C'm on! It's not gonna do anything bad!" It exclaims.
"What's it going to hurt? Nothing! It's only going to help!" It cries.
"Why the #%&$ aren't you grabbing me?!?" It taunts.
Or. Maybe I'm the stupid one. Considering I will easily go all day ignoring my lip's plea for respite, for relief, for the simple coating that restores them to peace. One would think that I must prefer to torture myself, to let my lips burn day in and day out.
(You know this isn't about the chapstick. Right?)
It's something I'm trying to do. Trying to stop ignoring the pain, and start reaching for the solution. Especially when it's less than an arm's length away. Truth be told, I've always been great at torturing myself, and I've always sucked at being kind to myself. That's slowly starting to head in the direction of change.
I'm trying. Or, at least, I'm trying to start trying.