how everything has been
Had one of those moments where maybe you walk into the kitchen to set a glass in the sink, and you turn around and lean back a little bit, and would be looking at the ceiling--save perhaps that your eyes are closed--and then you reach up and stretch a little, but your feet don't leave the ground so it's not necessarily a nice and proper kind of stretch, but rather the half-assed sort, but you figure that's okay, because that's the best you can manage at the moment--just getting by and squeaking by, even when it comes to basic things like moving and stretching and rubbing the perpetual lack of sleep from your face--and then you run your fingers through your hair, because it's the mad scientist sort of i-just-woke-up and i-just-woke-up and i'm-kind-of-wondering-if-i'm-still-asleep because everything has seemed like the longest and shortest nightmare--like the good and the bad just won't stop coming and changing and fluctuating from one extreme to the next, like the universe and destiny and fate and free will and circumstance and everything that potentially puts things in motion and causes them to stay in motion--like inertia can't decide what the hell it wants to do with you and so it feels like you'll either win the lottery or go for broke, but in a much more intimate kind of way that money has absolutely nothing to do with, and so you just don't know and you just don't know, and now your hair sticks up in an even funnier kind of way that i suppose could be amusing, but you've seen it one too many times before.
And then you hear these little clickety-clack toe nails against the linoleum, and you open your eyes and you look down, and you can't help but let a small smile creep across your face.
And that's how these days have been.
And then you hear these little clickety-clack toe nails against the linoleum, and you open your eyes and you look down, and you can't help but let a small smile creep across your face.
And that's how these days have been.