When I lay my head in my hands to think, I can see the flicker of the screen. This old computer, the ever more put upon charger, not consistently pulling the juice from those holes in the wall. Cycling.
I have been happier these past five hours than I was all week. I am grateful and reassured by that long, luxurious moment.
My psyche is still picking at the knot.
What’s wrong? Is anything wrong? How can I fix it? When will it be over? Will I always feel this way? If so, how do I deal with that?
For a temporary resolution, I have decided I am growing, though I don’t know yet into what. Growth is what separates youth from stagnation. Growth is what we all think we want to return to, conveniently forgetting its aches and traumas. Growth is dynamism, a blind force which doesn’t mind it’s p’s and q’s. Throws elbows, and gut punches, clotheslines and trips. Growth is a JOURNEY. Cue the weepy strings and cursive script. Growth is what stands between you and getting over that bad marriage. Growth is awkward limbs, acne, and a lisp, in truth and in metaphor.
I am growing right now (I hope) and it hurts.