MORNING PAGES
The Struggle-Bus
I’ve neither vim nor vigor
I’m struggling, friends. Struggling. I lack the oomph for the day-to-day. I am forcing myself to do bare minimum. I’m white-knuckling, waiting for something, anything, to get better. All it does is get more and bigger and faster and harder (Daft Punk that). I know i’ll keep doing the things, i will, but i’m feeling tricked, cheated by life and the perpetual carrot-dangle of a normal, regular life.
(And if anyone, anyone says no one’s normal or what’s regular, you can go kick rocks with that. I’ll boot you and block you. Last time i set boundaries they were flounced over, so don’t test me. These morning pages are about me and for me. WARNING: Still angry and not having it right now.)
With the space to be angry, both that which i’ve taken and that which has been afforded me, cracks have begun to show. Sadness is seeping in. With self-awareness comes many things, not all of them positive, yet they are truths, and so i’ll take them. I’m now painfully aware of how alone i’ve been all my life. My mother punted me out of the fire-circle and i’ve been on the outside ever since.
I watch from minimum safe distance, occasionally sneaking up close enough for a bit of light and warmth, but i scamper away when anyone pays attention to me. Sometimes i pretend to…
