the unknown is exhausting
at least unless you’ve chosen to march forward boldly into the abyss of not knowing, it probably is. it tugs at your sleeves throughout the day, asking you to swivel your head left and right looking for signs of what might be to come. is that smoke trailing in on the breeze from the east? did someone say something suggestive of what could be?
sometimes it gives you just enough space to feel excited and free. who cares! this is freedom, baby you say to yourself and fantasize the ways in which things could go that you’d like to see.
there is a good chance you are oscillating between this and many other states of mind. and you are tired. you’re an old cotton t-shirt that has been worn hundreds of times and now you’re on the line to dry. not only are you thin from wear, the breeze is battering you about. sometimes you are hanging in the sweet, spring air barely moving, and other times you’ve been twisted around the line, feeling like you’ll never come undone and hang freely again.
things i’ve done during This Thing
added books to my already miles long reading list
finished approximately one book (which was maybe 90 pages long)
gone outside and looked at the moon
sat inside and thought about getting up to look at the moon and ultimately remained sitting
gone on a 10 km run
stopped running
started running again
stopped running again
cooked an elaborate meal for dinner
eaten a bag of chips for dinner
cried
not cried
talked to friends
ignored my messages and calls for days on end
envisioned my life and future self excitedly
slept for 12 hours at a time
panicked about the future
recentred
panicked more
recentred again
RINSE AND REPEAT
that’s just it, friends. we are in for it all and everything. and whatever you are feeling and doing is ok.
i read this poem by Franny Choi the other day, and this line from May’s moon, the moon we are looking towards, now that April’s is waning, struck me deeply.
read some more poems. take care.