Tension

There is a tension that’s hard to place. It interferes, floating on the surface, scum, seen in certain exposures at specific angles: exhaustion, pressure, disappointment and expectation.

Exhaustion visits like a fly. Erratic movement trained on its target, glitching and landing. It irritates and is swiped at, batted away. It returns, this time with more intent, anticipating the abating advance of the aggressor. Fidgeting, it disturbs the peace of the restful. This is how exhaustion comes.

Pressure is more brazen. It lives here. It sets the alarm clock early, throws a tantrum at breakfast, is a blocked road and unsigned diversion to the track when running late. Pressure is the security guard not letting anyone without a pass into the grandstand, it’s the litany of handshakes with everyone in the garage on arrival, it’s the electrolytes forced down, the data meeting recapping the same point for the hundredth time, the wipe down and cleaning of the debris on the visor. It’s getting changed, the warm up routine, the start procedure. It permeates everywhere.

Disappointment is not merely a visitor but a tenant who smirks at every scenario; an overdone steak, no cake on a birthday, a queue at the doctors, a flight being delayed, a tax bill, a storm at the beach, a failed exam, a missing cat, a balding crown, a stalled start. All of the time.

Expectation lives in the reflection of disappointment. The hope. A fine cut of beef, a cash filled birthday card, a private medical appointment the same day, a rebate, sunshine and sand, an A*, a house cat, a full head of hair, a quick getaway. Once in a while.

This is tension.