It's too quiet here. Sometimes, quiet is good. Very good.
But sometimes, especially on those nights when the whole world seems to be in a pacified slumber and you're still sitting painfully restless in front of the computer,
But sometimes, especially on those nights when the whole world seems to be in a pacified slumber and you're still sitting painfully restless in front of the computer,
wishing you had a giant cheeseburger and wishing you could sleep and wishing you could get over your crippling case of writersblock and wishing that there weren't so many damn crickets outside your window,
that's when quiet is bad.
That's when you log onto Facebook and start clicking "older posts" over and over and over again,
not because you want to, but because you want to be somewhere louder, noisier, and there's nowhere else to go.
That's when you log onto Facebook and start clicking "older posts" over and over and over again,
not because you want to, but because you want to be somewhere louder, noisier, and there's nowhere else to go.
And then that's when the thoughts get so loud that even cricket rock concerts can't drown them out, and they progress from being situational to fundamental. Something along the lines of:
Why can't I have a cheeseburger?
I'm really, really super hungry and super restless and why does my best friend have to be on
vacation right now and why is it only me who suffers from this kind of insomnia and why aren't
other people brains as strange and screwy as mine and why can't I write poetry right now and
why can't I just make up my mind on what to do and why do I want to call him so badly and why
didn't he fight for me and why did I never get a shot at that constant, exhuberant happiness that
so many people are wrapped up in and why must I always defy what is normal and healthy and
why do I think so much and why are people so stupid and why is the world so unfair and where is God
And why am I here?
And why am I here?
As you see, it's a dangerous, lonesome progression of thinking that leaves you with much larger and much more complex questions that what you had started out with.
The very worst part is, even after these long hours of circular, wandering thinking as you sit there zombielike, listening to an old, saxophony version of Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, you realize that you still have no answers to anything at all.
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Posts
I know that feeling all to well. I do it almost every night. I ask myself questions almost every second and instead of answers I get more questions.
ReplyDeleteI've missed reading your words. I guess I needed a sabbatical for awhile.
ReplyDeletenot that many people are wrapped up in exhuberant happiness, at least not for very long. too many are exhuberantly happy until they're ready to kill themselves to get away. I think stupid is part of human nature - there's no other explanation for some of the things we do. And normal and healthy are based on perspective, remember that when the self-examination gets a bit harsh. You're you. Let that be enough. And when you figure out how to find peace with that, let me know.
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