Thursday, December 31, 2009
Lately, I wake up earlier and earlier. Something about four in the morning that makes you feel more alone than ever. Anyone who is anyone is asleep or at work and you're just sitting there staring out the window onto an empty side street full of quiet cars and evergreen bushes. My mind seems to be reaching for something, looking for something, for anything intangible.
Sometimes I think about calling someone but there’s no one to call. Not that I don’t have friends. I do. I also have some family but no one who would understand what I’m trying to say. I can’t talk to them. I can never make them understand. There isn’t anything wrong. There just isn’t anything right.
The world seems pale and heavy and intent on pretending I don’t exist. I’m tired and heavy. I feel so beige and brittle. My skin’s so stiff, I feel the air like fingernails. How long have I been here, empty and staring? Waiting for something to happen.
Nothing happens. In two hours, the automatic coffeepots will kick on. An hour after that the commuters will head out to drop the kids off at school and to get a double-espresso at Starbucks before heading into the grind.
And I'll continue on, one screw among the thousands in the eternal machine of life. But shouldn't there be something more?
Or is life merely fog and lonely winter sidewalks?