Anxiety

i can hear them on the other side of the door laughing and shouting about our blind, deaf, dumb dog and the blasting tv and the open window letting in the rain and the food still clinging to the "clean" plates

i think it's beautiful i think maybe there's a spot on that couch where i can pet that blind, deaf, dumb dog and maybe i can get away with yelling about stuff too but not doing it

i think maybe they're already happy i think maybe one more person is just a crowd i think maybe i'll just shut my door all the way and count the bumps in my popcorn ceiling