Coming Undone
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BREATH IN
Everyday I feel more and more confused about my next move. Certain and Uncertain. Clear vision. Blindness. The worst is misplacing the only outline you have out of this place. I have no idea where my phone went. I've been in three places. One. Two. Three. Where could it go? It's in NONE of those.
My mind is falling apart.
I flash back to the last time I lost this lover that I cradle oh so close to my ear and remember finding it in that part of Boston I'd never even been to. What?
The improbability drive has stolen my phone. Again. Hopefully some depressed robot isn't using it as a spare part resource box. Hopefully it is so improbable that I'll ever find it again that the improbability drive will spring once more into action. Can't use what you don't have.
Life life life.
And then some days you run into the people you want to see and don't want to see all at once. Temptation is such a dangerous word. Balloons falling through the sky. Impossibly possible. Wanting and not wanting. Living and not-living.
Sick is a temporary hiatus in all of your normal proceedings. Sick is that momentary lapse from life. Sick is not fun. Sick is not social. Sick sick sick of it and sick and being sick and feeling sick and looking sick and coughing and sneezing sick ill awful gross. DISGUSTING. Breath in. Hack up a lung. Breath out. Tired tired tired and sick and sick sometimes the sky looks the way you feel all gray and numb and tired.
Sometimes everything you're feeling manifests itself as the weather and the world just says "me too" sometimes you can't stop bitching and moaning about not feeling well because, well, you don't and everyone else never gets sick and here you are. SICK. The ins and outs of my white blood cell count, the amount of sodium or potassium in my blood, the number of platelets and the amount of calcium.
The ins and outs of not knowing when to give or when to take or even just when to let up, give up, and let things roll the way they will. When to help, when not to help. The constant nagging thought of wondering how much of this life really belongs to me. How much of it belongs to you, and him, and her, and that guy over there...
how do I know whether to keep it or to just...give it away.
And would it really be that?
To help, to live forsaking myself.
To live, forsaking others.
Is there a balance, or is it black and white?
FREAK OUT.
Everyday I feel more and more confused about my next move. Certain and Uncertain. Clear vision. Blindness. The worst is misplacing the only outline you have out of this place. I have no idea where my phone went. I've been in three places. One. Two. Three. Where could it go? It's in NONE of those.
My mind is falling apart.
I flash back to the last time I lost this lover that I cradle oh so close to my ear and remember finding it in that part of Boston I'd never even been to. What?
The improbability drive has stolen my phone. Again. Hopefully some depressed robot isn't using it as a spare part resource box. Hopefully it is so improbable that I'll ever find it again that the improbability drive will spring once more into action. Can't use what you don't have.
Life life life.
And then some days you run into the people you want to see and don't want to see all at once. Temptation is such a dangerous word. Balloons falling through the sky. Impossibly possible. Wanting and not wanting. Living and not-living.
Sick is a temporary hiatus in all of your normal proceedings. Sick is that momentary lapse from life. Sick is not fun. Sick is not social. Sick sick sick of it and sick and being sick and feeling sick and looking sick and coughing and sneezing sick ill awful gross. DISGUSTING. Breath in. Hack up a lung. Breath out. Tired tired tired and sick and sick sometimes the sky looks the way you feel all gray and numb and tired.
Sometimes everything you're feeling manifests itself as the weather and the world just says "me too" sometimes you can't stop bitching and moaning about not feeling well because, well, you don't and everyone else never gets sick and here you are. SICK. The ins and outs of my white blood cell count, the amount of sodium or potassium in my blood, the number of platelets and the amount of calcium.
The ins and outs of not knowing when to give or when to take or even just when to let up, give up, and let things roll the way they will. When to help, when not to help. The constant nagging thought of wondering how much of this life really belongs to me. How much of it belongs to you, and him, and her, and that guy over there...
how do I know whether to keep it or to just...give it away.
And would it really be that?
To help, to live forsaking myself.
To live, forsaking others.
Is there a balance, or is it black and white?
FREAK OUT.
1 comments:
there's always a balance. The problem is that you have to swing the pendulum back and forth to the extremes and work your way in to find out where your level is.
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