8/09/15

Needing something to do.  It never gets easier.  I mean, it ebbs and flows but trends nowhere.  Drifts with the whims of follicles.  Bad hair days short and long.  Tortured here and there, convo peripherals at meeting, nature as god. Can't make anything out of fakery just now.  Super this, super that.  This is all I write now, stuff like this.  And I shared.  There was some sincerity in it, but also a big thing of dishonesty in that I neither exude nor feel gratitude. Could uncover such a thing with deep digging I won't bother with, except allude to like a myth in a share, that ghastly noun. Kills time that badly needs killing given it's still not time to go.  Peripherals get sharper and sharper.  Cake meetings. Not even a movie of the week.  How fucking easy it is for everyone else.  Imagine the mileage I could get out of ease like that.

So hard to say things.  Takes so much effort.  Easier to swipe them to self as a channel.  There's gotta be something in my water. Something making me tired.  Something making me see the clear emptiness of everything, program sayings. I'm praying for spiked water, something to blame.  Feel disliked today, that paranoia's taking over.  Of course I'm in the wrong company for that.

Close eyes to not see signals to interpret.  Gesture ignorant but just perceptive enough to be offended in the case of some true positives.  Signals.

I wish I could know in advance which meetings are gonna feel good and which aren't, so I could just go to the good feeling ones.  The ones that feel bad are so often the cake ones where everyone's laughing annoyingly and my absence is palpable.

Yeah, I got that vibe.  Ease. It's still so hard.

Well, what do you expect if I'm going to spiral into exclusion. These are my bootstraps, the only kind of initiative I can take.

2 comments:

chels said...

sometimes it takes all of your effort just to feel ambivalent.

Hector the Crow said...

Hey chels. Nice to see you around. We should have a chat soon, it's been a long time.

channeling easy mode

Sometimes I fade, like  Bod . Then proceed to get away with things. Stealing time, treating myself. To a glorified journal entry. This pigmy...