I did everything today and it wasn't enough. I washed my face under the faucet and fell asleep beneath elongated shadows. I didn't feel anyone but the weight and breath of apathy or restlessness. It wasn't necessarily depression, though Heaven knows I have lived there. Is Heaven casting shadows? Is anything holy anymore? Is anything holy if everything is political?
I'm more like a gap between two flickering shadows than a true representation of a life. I cannot only experience the casual observers of my essence if I intend to continue. I cannot wake up if my slumber is deeper is deeper in the waking hours than while I'm asleep. I have everything at my disposal, all the materials I could need, and I'm stuck beneath dead, shining stars.
Am I a broken record or is there something I'm missing? Is there something out there that remains unpredictable? Does the rain from the Heavens pass through something greater? Is there something beyond this homeocentric life orbited by others like Saturn's dusty rings?
Why can't I say anything of significance without you, whoever you may be? Why can't solitude breed creativity and maintain a piece of contentment? Could it be that it's because we are made for each other? Is that why we cannot create in isolation? Are these too many questions to keep your interest? Do you even care anymore?
Perhaps there wasn't anyone here before me. Maybe I am just a fragment of something else. Maybe something else is happening and I am just making up for the opposite element. I might just be the yin for someone or something else that I may not even be able to observe with these five known senses.
I do know that I desire connection. I desire an embrace of sorts. Something too where I can express myself and be myself. Yes, there is an element or at least a fraction of me that enjoys this existentialism, but I want someone else here. I don't want to have to rely on my own foolishness. I don't want to have to continue to attempt to trick myself.
After all, when the arrows point to nowhere in particular, the people often feel cheated or slighted. They've wasted their time or they're less inclined to attempt to begin anew. So maybe all of you are already gone for that very reason and I'm just writing into a void. Yes, suffering and despair do not occur in a vacuum, but this vortex sure feels like it at times. I'm not anything if I'm anything, but somehow I'm supposed to find my worth (or at least teach others of theirs). How do I do that when I've so convinced myself of the opposite? Or maybe the conviction is so deeply rooted that I cannot sense its true origin. Perhaps it was planted by an impish gardener who has long since gone. Maybe I'm a garden of wilted and forsaken flowers..
