Would you believe me if I told you it never truly goes away? It moves out like the tide, but eventually, everything comes back again. Like an old injury that flares up when the weather turns bad, I ache in the familiar places. It’s a look on my face. Awake at 5 am. And wondering about everything I’ve done.
I write letters that I never send. I stare out at the sea. Has the season changed?
I am thinking about a long drive we took and wondering if I knew then what I had. A small grocery store and sleeping in a neighboorhood outside a whiskey bar. Do I ever truly have appreciated anything in life? I seem to only know how to love fully in retrospect. It’s a sickness. I want to be where I am. I want to want to be where I am, lost in it, and not pulled forward or backward. I want something that I do not know how to hold on to.
There is a brief moment when you dive into the water and the entire world goes silent. This instant reset, a cleansing of sorts, a coming home. I want to live in that space, but that’s not life is it? I think I will be happy when I go but then I am just gone. It takes a long time to move entire continents.
I just want to live the life I have but I do not know how. It’s no surprise to me that the thinking comes when the work ends. They say the same part of your brain used for rumination is the same part that is used for creating and problem-solving. This is a luxury.
The day is both too long and not long enough and I cannot seem to get anything clean or keep house plants alive; like they can sense my deep unease. Perhaps it will all be fine tomorrow again. There is something in this. I just do not know what it is.