Destination Procrastination

What is it about this time of year that makes me move slower than molasses, feel heavier than heartache? Something is weighing me down and I haven’t found the fortitude to figure it out. What comes across as apathy is closer to personal panic. I had missed dinner with a friend by minutes and exhaustion still hasn’t allowed me to catch up with anything since.
We went to this company dinner last night, kisa and I – one of those coat and tie, heels and finery things. A nod to the powers that be, a thanks for the employment kind of thing. Before going we fussed over what to wear. Boot won out over heels. Black won out over red. We ate, chatted, and left. Just like that. It took longer to pick out clothes than it did to attend. I felt fat. I had nothing to say, nothing charming to hold anyones attention with. I’m not reading Twilight. I’m not a Harry Potter groupie and I don’t have kids to tuck in at night. Nothing to bitch about unless you count houses. It’s too bad they don’t seat people by interest. I felt like I could have started with the soup, slipped out during the salad, missed the main course, and upon rejoining everyone during dessert, not missed a thing; nor been missed myself. Like the movie kisa was watching. I left during the gangster bloody beating, talked to my mother for nearly two hours, and when I returned the movie was still in progress only this time the gangster was getting arrested. Like I couldn’t have predicted that. I didn’t miss a thing.
Somehow, somewhere along the way I pressed pause. I feel as though I am suspended from my life. Hanging inches above what I want to be doing; where I want to be. I’m sure it’s a mild melancholy of some sort. Kinda sorta maybe?