incoherence
Today has been one of those days. A self-imposed fuzzy day. When you forget the little things: bringing writing utensils to class, telling the bon worker that you don't want mayonnaise on both slices of bread, leaving for class ten minutes early.
I slept for three hours this afternoon. I used to nap every day. I would hop into my bed at 3:30 and be woken up at 5 for dinner. But that was a different time. When things were more confusing. And life was uncomfortable. Most of the time, I simply sought out the peace of sleep. The negative when I couldn't be bothered. A place to slip away from everything, but mostly myself.
Life just feels fuzzy. Like a thin layer of gauze has been wrapped around me. A self-imposed retardation of sorts. And it's not uncomfortable, but rather a mixture of a safety net and a division of space. A lace-like chrysalis.
I wish I wasn't afraid.
To touch. To wake up. To reach out and tear away at the layers.
This is truly a season of re-birth. Like screaming babies with flushed red bodies, we will enter the world. But this time we won't be carried. We will walk. As proud adults. I think that this is what I am truly afraid. Because now, we are alone. Before our family fawned and doted. For the first time, we will be truly alone. Forced to face the consequences of life. To reach out with inquisitive hands into a world where the lights appear to have been snuffed out. Groping for a sense of security in a place that we are unsure of. And it's not a negative view. It's just one of ultimate uncertainty. A view that I can take, covered in my thin layer of gauze, sitting on top of a green hill, watching the world scurry about below.
I slept for three hours this afternoon. I used to nap every day. I would hop into my bed at 3:30 and be woken up at 5 for dinner. But that was a different time. When things were more confusing. And life was uncomfortable. Most of the time, I simply sought out the peace of sleep. The negative when I couldn't be bothered. A place to slip away from everything, but mostly myself.
Life just feels fuzzy. Like a thin layer of gauze has been wrapped around me. A self-imposed retardation of sorts. And it's not uncomfortable, but rather a mixture of a safety net and a division of space. A lace-like chrysalis.
I wish I wasn't afraid.
To touch. To wake up. To reach out and tear away at the layers.
This is truly a season of re-birth. Like screaming babies with flushed red bodies, we will enter the world. But this time we won't be carried. We will walk. As proud adults. I think that this is what I am truly afraid. Because now, we are alone. Before our family fawned and doted. For the first time, we will be truly alone. Forced to face the consequences of life. To reach out with inquisitive hands into a world where the lights appear to have been snuffed out. Groping for a sense of security in a place that we are unsure of. And it's not a negative view. It's just one of ultimate uncertainty. A view that I can take, covered in my thin layer of gauze, sitting on top of a green hill, watching the world scurry about below.