(no subject)
My days are coming to an end.
And then a new beginning.
Or rather, an old beginning starting again.
I lay in my empty, now bare room.
A chunk of my hair is being tugged tightly by my fist, while the nail of my thumb scratches at it.
The sound. A sound I've longed to hear ever since I first layed eyes on the bow of a violin.
It's such a forbidden piece. It might as well be painted red.
One must never touch the hairs in that bow. But it's so tempting.
I've discovered now that my own hair is satisfying enough, though.
Little things are always the most satisfying when you have time to just "be."
Little things are always the most unsatisfying when you have time to just "be."
A scent of food. Food I cannot put my finger on. Food I must have put my hands around.
I'm soaking in it. My hair. My hands. My shirt. I pull my shirt to my nose and immediately regret it, only to do it several more times.
I now am even stronger in my "do nothing today" stance.
I cannot stand the thought of sharing this with the world.
A mix of waves' and airplanes' noise saturate what should be silence all around me.
These very noises woke me this morning.
And so now I lay here. Restless, but more tired than ever.
I cannot get anything done that I had planned yesterday.
One, because I am too tired to do anything at all.
And two, because I cannot remember all the important things on my list.
My lists should always be written down and I know this by now.
My motivation to accomplish the tasks is minimal, thus, writing the list is rarely on the top of the list.
The one thing I do remember that must be done is the most important of all. But I keep telling myself, "You have tomorrow to do it."
What a shame it would be if I waited until last minute and something got in the way of completing this significant order.
Perhaps I should never write again. It's not at the top of my list. It gets in the way. Then again, nothing is at the top. It starts in the middle. Here's the middle.
And then a new beginning.
Or rather, an old beginning starting again.
I lay in my empty, now bare room.
A chunk of my hair is being tugged tightly by my fist, while the nail of my thumb scratches at it.
The sound. A sound I've longed to hear ever since I first layed eyes on the bow of a violin.
It's such a forbidden piece. It might as well be painted red.
One must never touch the hairs in that bow. But it's so tempting.
I've discovered now that my own hair is satisfying enough, though.
Little things are always the most satisfying when you have time to just "be."
Little things are always the most unsatisfying when you have time to just "be."
A scent of food. Food I cannot put my finger on. Food I must have put my hands around.
I'm soaking in it. My hair. My hands. My shirt. I pull my shirt to my nose and immediately regret it, only to do it several more times.
I now am even stronger in my "do nothing today" stance.
I cannot stand the thought of sharing this with the world.
A mix of waves' and airplanes' noise saturate what should be silence all around me.
These very noises woke me this morning.
And so now I lay here. Restless, but more tired than ever.
I cannot get anything done that I had planned yesterday.
One, because I am too tired to do anything at all.
And two, because I cannot remember all the important things on my list.
My lists should always be written down and I know this by now.
My motivation to accomplish the tasks is minimal, thus, writing the list is rarely on the top of the list.
The one thing I do remember that must be done is the most important of all. But I keep telling myself, "You have tomorrow to do it."
What a shame it would be if I waited until last minute and something got in the way of completing this significant order.
Perhaps I should never write again. It's not at the top of my list. It gets in the way. Then again, nothing is at the top. It starts in the middle. Here's the middle.