motion - e

today was gloomy.
I awoke to the sound of rain on my window and emptiness in my soul.
I knew there were tasks ahead of me and I wanted nothing to do with them.

and I rode my bike.
uphill.
and the uphill seemed to last for miles. much longer than I was prepared for. so much uphill that Im not sure I reached a top, if there were ever a top.

because, this is not about you, this is about me. and for me, its not about you, its about me.

so why can't I stop thinking of you. is there anything left in me?

supposedly the inspiration will come, the words will flow out of my mouth like vomit after too much Jameson's.

Until then I clean, and keep busy, and think of ways to be inspired.

What do I like to do? Where do I like to go?

Why do I feel so fucking privileged - whining when I truly have it all. So much more than so many others. Im so sick of feeling sorry for myself. But I feel so lost its all I can muster to feel.

Independence Day

Figures.
Im trying to decipher if this is independence from a life I've become accustomed to living, or if its regaining dependence on myself...because I've been independent from who I really am?

Or is that what they're trying to brainwash me to think?
Why do emotions have so much to say...and why do they have such a strong grip on our impressions of reality?

Its true though, nothing comes out clear anymore. The melodies don't seep from my brain onto paper or into a song. I sometimes feel as though I can glance down a long tube, or even a well, and deep in it is me. Far far from the body and daily tasks and "life" that keeps the other parts of me busy.

It was strange, and I could almost feel it coming on. Like a dark grey storm cloud, but you're inside watching a movie so you dont really care. But after its been raining for months, you start to wonder.

It began with those feelings like I was in quicksand. Like I'd try to get up and live, but it just wouldnt happen. At first I fought it as hard as I could. Then I grew accustomed to it, and felt quite satisfied being stuck.

Now someone has shaken me...like I've been in a daze and someone snapped their fingers in front of my eyes. I'm still in that initial shock phase, looking around trying to figure out where I am, who I am, what Im doing. And I'm still half in the daze...so Im sort of hesitant to come out of it, because its comfortable in there. Warm and fuzzy, cozy and familiar. And I dont know whats out there when I come out of the daze. Is it anything like where I just was? Will I ever fall back into the daze? Whats really so wrong with the daze anyways?

Ah yes, living. The thing I wasnt doing so well while in the daze. This is what is so wrong with my very recent previous state of mind.

So this is a good thing, right? Yes. She said, he said, I said, they said.
I think the next step is to wake up. Take a big breath, stretch, splash some water on my face.

I wonder if thats why I was having so much anxiety. Like my body trying to get me out of what ever parallel world I was in.

Life is a fucking trip. Everything changes constantly. But this can be a good thing.

This is a good thing.