“Why do we _____ the _____ ?”


I’m staring at my keyboard, head cradled. Five, ten, maybe fifteen minutes. I can’t write.

It’s my second cup of tea today and uncharacteristically, I’ve made it with milk and sugar. The radiating heat is a constant reminder of the here and now. Humorlessly, I typecast it as my lifeline to the present – my real life.

Real as opposed to fake? No.

‘Real’ as in how I live the majority of my time. Silent. Maybe best described as very different. The disconnect from Saturday to the present is jarring, a phenomenon accentuated by my insistence in defying the clock. Now, my _____ are foremost. Obligations, pending decisions and…realizations. Yesterday these shuffled to a corner of my consciousness, a gulag in which they were unwilling participants in a sporadic game of whack-a-mole. Now, under the harsh dual bulbs that frame my seat, freed, they exercise a powerful counterbalance. Reevaluation occurs. Like the light in which I’m bathed I’m harsher, more critical of my person as well as preceeding actions, emotions and thoughts. A very pragmatic side of me flexes stronger; its queries and comments alternatively scold, lecture and slash. My outlook diverges from yesterday’s. It’s my rude awakening.


Add comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.