I think that life would like to convince us that we have a fighting chance.
I know that future is just that...not present, or past. It is eventual, but not inevitable, fickle and completely unpredictable. It is seconds, moments, hours, days and weeks ahead of us. Months and maybe a long stretch of good years if we're lucky. If we can hold steady.
I've attempted to attain the talents of a great manipulator recently, equipping myself with stealthy words and polished tactics. I feel that if i push out enough energy and make efforts to control every wild aspect of "it all" I will mold my existence into something perfect. I am tethered and bound tightly to so many of these operations, that the strings are starting to cut off circulation--I can literally feel things pulling away from me. When it all goes awry, I am certain I will part with a limb, if not all of them. Stubborn. Selfish.
I started writing this hours ago. What you're reading at exactly this part is the second half. I had a long talk with a good friend and it seems lately we are all feeling this way a little bit. Why are we all so discontent? Our faces are shadowed with sorrow...if you look close you can see it in the eyes. This pathetic attempt at control is waning. Grips are slipping, and legs are starting to kick in a frantic stopping motion. We are on our knees, hands clutched to our chests, wrists interlocking in grief.
I had been on such a high, so the impact to the ground was jarring. I have been careless and inconsiderate. I have not been the best friend I could be. In a sense, I have been a little out of touch with reality. I suppose it happens to everyone. We all fall down sometimes.
No comments:
Post a Comment