I have been doing nothing to help myself, yet at the same time there is no direction for me to trudge towards. Even so, in a parallel universe, it's not an easy gauge. There is too much swirling. When something bad happens, I can no longer muster any ounce of urgency to instinctively find solutions. I don't try, neither do I wait for change no more. But yet, I am still good with sympathy. Is that my redemption? I sound exhausted. I think I am. I've lost my patience to recover from the fatigue. I've learnt how to sit around with discomfort. I've learnt how to hold my bite.
There's a kind of pinched mindfulness.
I want to erase it all.
It's funny, my emotions are starting to feel like cardboard.
Like the trashy bits that stick out of the recycling doors downstairs.
I want to go back to swimming: it teaches me how to breathe. It's easier to listen to myself in the silence of the water. It's the easiest as you drown.