I don't post here much anymore for a variety of reasons. It feels both too public and permanent to be completely honest in-- and without honesty, the whole thing is bunk, isn't it? I wouldn't be surprised if this was the beginning of the end for blogger and me. Seems my personal thoughts, the ones I've enjoyed posting to see what people thought of them or what shape they took upon revisitation, are better suited for the margins of legal pads-- where they can remain in ink, spared the embarrassment of internet immortalization, and me their eventual betrayal.
I most often haven't words to excuse the fits of anxiety I'm sometimes prone to. They come in flash floods and dissipate with equal unpredictability. For any number of reasons, I seize up with terror, draw scenarios in the sand and cast the sample in concrete. Then I unhinge my jaws and swallow the whole thing in one, where it sits in my belly a stone-- its etchings enhanced by stomach acid.
Everything now feels like setup for the next season. What comes and goes when one ends?
But if I were to say anything here with clarity, it would be that I am desperately afraid.
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2 comments:
One of these days we'll smoke out our brain bees, but for now just remember that they make us things like the real ones do, except in the form of moments: after the moments of fear and anxiety the joy and calm feel exceptionally real and wonderful.
You know, I'm afraid too. I'm afraid about many things.
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