Once upon a time, I walked like a tree. I was upright and strong. The sun made me powerful and glorious. (I swear to god, it did.) And then something happened. I woke up one day and I was bent over - hunched into a terrible version of my sun-bathed and sun-drenched former self. I have gone from a relaxed, fun, spontaneous girl to a tense, fun-sucking, pre-planned robot. I hate this version of myself. If I met myself today, I'd excuse myself to leave and talk to other people.
I walk around in a permanent muscles-clenched state of partial psychosis, I swear to god. It's kind of ridiculous. I don't want to, you must believe me. I don't want to be tense and unhappy and neurotic - it's just that I don't know how to stop it. I don't know how to hand over the keys to god or whatever and stop worrying about all the stupid, trivial shit in life.
The thing is, I don't think the "shit" is "trivial". I feel like everything matters somehow, and it makes me so sad that I can't make it better. I will use my exact current circumstances as an example: I am sitting at my kitchen table alternately writing this blog entry and reading the New York Times. My children are off on childhood expeditions of one kind or another. My husband (who is usually not home) is sitting in his bedroom not talking to me. My life is solitary. Those "little" things make for a very lonely existence. When I have no one to share my life with, I am tense and strung out and deluded.
---
I just stopped writing for a while and stared at a candle on my table What is the use of all this? What a waste of my time.
No comments:
Post a Comment