The twilight zone

I see it.
I stumble upon it unexpectedly. I think stumbled conveys the absence of expectance. I stare; I look again, to see if what im reading is real. I pray it isn’t. I think this is too cruel for God to put me through. I keep going back to it…maybe there was something I missed. There’s a movement within me, a laboured heartbeat. Q always knows what to do..what to say, but not about this. I beg her to blink, to come up with some quick-witted comment. Nothing. I leave. I search for a friend. I smile. I tell her what I saw. I try not to cry. And I don’t. Its in my head, on the edge of the table, I carry it around in my bag and I cant empty it out like that Senokot lady in the advert. The group meeting starts, I fumble around remembering what it is I needed from them. I forget something, then repeat it twice. I feel like im losing my mind. Somebody laughs, like its unreal fro me to have an inefficient day. I apologize and bring my mind back to where it should be. Fingertips freezing, tummy floating…mind racing, this is not me. I float to the j.k an hour too early for Jumma. I pray for something impossible. I leave. I wish for a friend on the way in case I forget which step comes next. Nothing. Just the wind providing enough resistance to force myself forward. I sit on the 2nd seat of the bus. On the right. The usual place. I get home. I sleep. I wake up…and feel better. Its nothing I cant deal with. It just caught me off-guard. The phone rings. Mum picks up. It was for me. She tells me. They liked my idea…that this opportunity has come my way. I see a glimmer of light, that could turn into a blinding streak of brilliance. My friend calls the next day, I realize that im not alone. I laugh, im the Q im supposed to be. It dawns on me at 1am. Its up to me. To take the reigns…and be the architect of my circumstances. To choose what affects me. To stop being the victim. To let go.