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Jun. 28th, 2001 05:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grindmonkehI feel disembodied. I tried to shake it by going for a walk around campus, I think it helped me reassemble my mindset somewhat. No stars or moon were visible, so perception was left to the mercy of artificial lights. I saw two cats sitting in a small staff parking lot face to face and meowing at one another. From a distance I mistook the sound for children. As I neared they stopped briefly to note my presence, and then continued their conversation after I passed. I paused to observe for a a few minutes once they had disregarded me. One was dark and the other was pale...I couldn't ascertain specific colors under the yellow cast of the streetlamp. They didn't move, so I couldn't tell if they were friends or enemies. I continued walking. The campus was alone aside from the two cats having their chat.
My thoughts are often casual strangers to me. I'm lonely among them. I see them pass without recognition or clue to their origin or destination. I am okay. I'm always okay. I sometimes think I'm haunted by those feelings that I never expressed, or knew how to express. I still don't think I know how. So much time alone draws a futile sketch of expression. It always has been taken for granted that I'm okay, always then and always now. When I act uncertain of my optimism people get nervous. They don't like to bear witness.
Reality can spiral into uninhabitable depths and leave a scattered wretch of debris on the surface to cling to. Some can't live without that which is lost. They let go of what remains adrift to sink and succumb to the abyss. I have memories unresolved from once when my own reality plummeted into that forlorn darkness. I embraced those who were submerging, and kicked like a motherfucker until I saw land on the horizon. I let them go on their own and they never looked back. I sometimes find myself where they left me...weary, alone, and still keeping my head above water as the rifts erode my will. The moonlight cast upon the water is enough to distract my efforts to the infinity of wonders that are available to perception, and the tide directs me with its will to a new horizon of solace. I'd like to emerge from below that horizon and walk upon it. To have the chance to reflect upon my efforts with that insight would be the redemption from myself...an absolution of my turmoil. I feel as if I am at the mercy of the infinite, for the infinite does not give favorable odds on such prolonging of that ascension.
I'm always okay, though sometimes distracted. Disembodied, I soar to that placid destination and peer down into the shadowed waters of purgatory for reason. The shadow is cast by the confinement of solitude. I can't escape that hindered sight.
My thoughts are often casual strangers to me. I'm lonely among them. I see them pass without recognition or clue to their origin or destination. I am okay. I'm always okay. I sometimes think I'm haunted by those feelings that I never expressed, or knew how to express. I still don't think I know how. So much time alone draws a futile sketch of expression. It always has been taken for granted that I'm okay, always then and always now. When I act uncertain of my optimism people get nervous. They don't like to bear witness.
Reality can spiral into uninhabitable depths and leave a scattered wretch of debris on the surface to cling to. Some can't live without that which is lost. They let go of what remains adrift to sink and succumb to the abyss. I have memories unresolved from once when my own reality plummeted into that forlorn darkness. I embraced those who were submerging, and kicked like a motherfucker until I saw land on the horizon. I let them go on their own and they never looked back. I sometimes find myself where they left me...weary, alone, and still keeping my head above water as the rifts erode my will. The moonlight cast upon the water is enough to distract my efforts to the infinity of wonders that are available to perception, and the tide directs me with its will to a new horizon of solace. I'd like to emerge from below that horizon and walk upon it. To have the chance to reflect upon my efforts with that insight would be the redemption from myself...an absolution of my turmoil. I feel as if I am at the mercy of the infinite, for the infinite does not give favorable odds on such prolonging of that ascension.
I'm always okay, though sometimes distracted. Disembodied, I soar to that placid destination and peer down into the shadowed waters of purgatory for reason. The shadow is cast by the confinement of solitude. I can't escape that hindered sight.