God, I Feel Fat

Jun 12, 2008 00:24

Sometimes I go days without saying anything profound. Or I give out words in meager doles for lack of anything material or emotional to give. But eventually the silent nights accumulate and I cannot accommodate the thrashing of the soul as I kill it every night to go to sleep. Instead of writing the ringing words, I fight them, zenlike, as hopelessly as one fights heartburn. It doesn't lead to pleasant sleep.

Simple things strike me. We have to live every day. We have to live every hour with only the choice between sleeping or waking. We can't stop. Time is so limited and inexorable and I can't be that way. I couldn't live that way, in such expanses of time like 12 hours.

I do things alone. When I do things alone, I wonder if anyone will ever do these things with me and if it would be any different if they did. I want to care about people. But people are so disappointing lately.

I feel older and more used to my body. But I still remember the old dream of floating effortlessly and immediately down my stairs, running down the gentle slopes of school fields, across the vast glazes which coat our days. That is the different life. To live freely. With effortless intent. Give me that for now. In return, I will give you more meaningless and dead words.
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