OBLIVION #3
photo by loveblushfever (c)
Breeze coming in the window. Quiet thoughts. Simple, unadorned images of faint, yet bright memories drifting into and out of view. What we have to say versus what we have to tell. Stories have all kinds of beginnings. I sift through fragments of thoughts, ideas of things, and hold on a little longer to some kind of meaning that continues to elude me. It feels like I haven’t slept in years. My keys are still in the door. I’ve left the coffee on all day. Laundry’s still in the washing machine. I’m holding on to the edge of the desk half off my chair. Either I’m terrified or I’m indecisive. Regardless, it is the end of something. I feel that whatever all of this has been is cascading to an end point where I don’t have to do this anymore, where there is no will to put myself through all the drama any longer. It feels at once relieving, warm and good, and absolutely horrifying. Anything that ends is this way. I’m not prepared to embark, to push away from the shore and just float along, no direction, just stumbling through, on undercurrents, fumes. Just get on with it. Inhale.
life or something like it 