I feel itchy. 

Not the kind of itch that sits on your skin, annoyingly begging to be scratched. It’s the kind of itch that is present just enough to make you feel uncomfortable. It’s invisible, so scratching it is almost impossible. It’s uncomfortable enough to keep my attention, to keep me feeling discontent enough to not forget the itch. I long for it to be gone. To soothe the discontent. I just can’t seem to find the right salve. But I know the discontent is a symptom of the deeper dis-ease of desire. My soul is hungry for change. I just don’t know what change that is….