(no subject)
My days run together in this sort of endless light-dark-light cycle peppered with feeling hopeful then not hopeful then hopeful again. That comes from pushing the hopeful thoughts into my head the same way a very weary camper stuffs his sleeping bag into its sleeve after a 14 day wilderness trek with no food. More tiring than I have experienced under normal circumstances. I can sustain the positive thoughts as long as I'm actively trying to. Problems arise when I have to focus on other things, even for a short while. The shift is jarring and invokes tendencies toward falling apart and tears and frustration.
Old ways and old life look better after a few years, all the old sting replaced by the pain of fresher problems. Old days when possibilities were endless and all joy and promise were deserved rather than chased after in early morning affirmations just to make it to 8am. Old hope seems more real and beautiful than anything experienced in recent memory. Old mornings I would hang my feet out of my third story window, looking up at the sky as the sun rose, sipping my coffee, wondering what adventures I would find my way into and out of by the end of the day. Is that even possible now? Was that experience ever really there to be felt? It must have been if I'm here now. Memories tend to change over time, even though we think they remain unchanged. Feelings constantly change and so do responsibilities. I give myself over to responsibility for another day, and think fondly about times to come in order to get through it. Efforts to live in the moment should be made, and I have no idea why I'm having such a hard time making them.
Old ways and old life look better after a few years, all the old sting replaced by the pain of fresher problems. Old days when possibilities were endless and all joy and promise were deserved rather than chased after in early morning affirmations just to make it to 8am. Old hope seems more real and beautiful than anything experienced in recent memory. Old mornings I would hang my feet out of my third story window, looking up at the sky as the sun rose, sipping my coffee, wondering what adventures I would find my way into and out of by the end of the day. Is that even possible now? Was that experience ever really there to be felt? It must have been if I'm here now. Memories tend to change over time, even though we think they remain unchanged. Feelings constantly change and so do responsibilities. I give myself over to responsibility for another day, and think fondly about times to come in order to get through it. Efforts to live in the moment should be made, and I have no idea why I'm having such a hard time making them.