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Sometimes, life is a blur. Sometimes, I don’t know what I am doing, why I am doing it, or how I got here. It’s a crazy little thing, life is. I don’t know who I am, I don’t like who I am, and I don’t like what I’m doing. I also don’t like change and I don’t like work. But I know I don’t like being still either. Trapped in the liminalities of existence, I am but a ghost of whom I was a second ago. A ghost who is accumulating layers and layers of ghostiness and going nowhere. That’s who I am, if I can even say that I am something.
Life is a long thin strip of ticker tape punctuated by the occasional abnormalities here and there. I guess I live for those abnormalities now.
Life is a waiting game. Waiting for my marks to come out. Waiting for an email. Waiting for that Amazon package to arrive in the mail. Waiting to go home. Waiting to be picked up. I’m not sure what I will do when I will have finished waiting for everything. I don’t know what I’d do with myself.
I stopped waiting for that miracle years ago when I realized that all my waiting amounted to absolutely nothing. Waiting doesn’t build character. But what can I do if I don’t know how to do? All words and no do; no means by which to transform wishes to ams. Full of wills and could haves and should haves and oh wells and my present is a big gaping hole that I fall into each time and I know by now that it will do me no good to try and avoid it.
It just grabs you, doesn’t it?
It grabs you when you’re not looking and somehow, you’re never looking, even when you’ve written on the back of your hand to look NOW! You think you’ve made it just this once but there is a whole lot of confusion and somehow, somehow, it’s gotten you again.
Damn.
Maybe next time. Maybe next time. I’ll be careful next time.
I won’t change a thing, but maybe next time will be different.
Next time it is.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, well, fool me twice and I guess you can keep on fooling me and fooling me because I guess I won’t do anything about it. I guess. All words and no do. Such a shame.
But at least there’s no one to disappoint. People can’t be disappointed if they aren’t rooting for you. If they don’t notice you, you don’t lose. You definitely don’t win, but you don’t lose either.
And plus, you’ve always got yourself.
…well, do you?
When you’ve disappointed yourself often enough, you’ll be going somewhere. It could be up. It really could. Forward and up and faster and faster. But that’s not my story. My story is that I’ve been deserted by my own self years ago. What a disappointment. I can’t do anything without her, her who used to be me, and I’ve gone and driven her away with everything that I was doing wrong, and now she’s gone and I am nothing.
Smoke without substance, a ghost of the flame that used to be me and I am wafting away and the end of my story is a whisper that no one hears because they’re all listening for BANGS and here I am, a life cut short by a whisper of nothingness. Pointless. Absolutely pointless
