lately i have been just meh. off in some dazed and strange place that is silent no matter the noise around me. people want to drag me here or there and yet i don't feel the urge to move. i view everything as pale. the vividness of the paintings color has bled out onto the carpet and i stare at the painting, just slightly off center due to my astigmatism, and wonder where the life went.
i wrote someone a letter today, said many words that i never have gotten to say in the silent creases of our conversations and lack thereof over the last eleven years.
i talked to my mom, she said that she understands... these moments when all your stability, responsiblity, are gone and you become lost. wandering around in the abysmal wondering where you are supposed to be going and coming from. i just walk. i hear my friend playing a guitar in the background, some sad song that remains beautiful as it stings. i had it on repeat yesterday for about two hours and wrote nothing. i just sat there staring off into space before taking a long shower and pretending the hot water was a lover that snuck into the glass walls with me.
i watch life carry on, the waves of fate and choices that carry with me on the side roads. all the things i could have or could ever be, all the things that matter and don't matter. what do i want? the whispers of the souls in my life, they look at me, i them with pale cornblue eyes and say i don't know. i don't think i ever had. someday, sometime, maybe, perhaps.... what if's are lost in the fold of the paper, bent and creased and stamped .41 cents. they go somewhere i can not go. traveling without moving.
people call, hello hello. are you okay? yes and no. i have no answer. whereever i am it is all the same thing. the colors bled onto the carpet, i say, the painting ... it is always tilted, i have an astigmatism. they hold me with their words, run their hands through my hair, it's okay... these ghosts and whispers say, and it never was not okay. i just am wandering. some part of me is far away playing football in 100 degrees with humidity and thinking about the swimming hole. i called my heart, he said he missed me too.
the summer is always like this. it's distracting. people are distracting. i forget what this feels like until it happens and then my eyes gloss over with age and i feel worn down. my knees are weak and my heart even still being tethered into the past of my child walking in my childhood. it feels almost like a panic attack without the pain, without the exhaustion of air, without the chaos from it. you just feel continuely that mental numbness that follows. somewhere where sorrow and happiness collide and make some imaginary apathy.
it comes like an old lover and leaves stains on your sheets and spilt whiskey with a card that says, 'see you next time'. you wake up and you shower before going out for coffee. Alone always leaves a note, it likes to remind you it was there and not some bad night of tequila. it's considerate that way.
the vision of wandering around thrift stores all day seeking hidden treasures of someones past, comes to mind. the sound of some street blues band and the laughter from one person to another person, i can feel it on the creases of my lips and hear the sweet sound ringing. it hasn't happened yet, but it is as though i can see it in the periphial. a could be, a what if, a maybe that is frozen in time... a mirage in a desert. i drink deep the memory that is not a memory. punch drunk on a past that hasn't even existed.
i write words so the words go, they flow and fly free from me so i can concentrate on things less valuable than my self awareness. i read about car parts and the pieces turn stale in my eyes and become pieces of other things, living machinery. i wonder what the components of a heart would be. i wonder if they would be labeled 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. What is the purpose of the valve a, b, or c? would there be an essay? apparently you can't pass with less than an 80% and i never did well on tests of the heart. as illogical as my love is to this 'real world' that makes no sense to me.
i wonder briefly what would happen if i walked in the bled paint on my carpet and just choose to walk off. i figured i would spend some quality time with alone today, maybe go out for lunch, he always tipped well.