There are hidden shores within us. Places we will never reach, places that will reach us instead.
A sort-of goodbye
I need to move on from growing orbits, to somewhere new, unscathed.
Perhaps we will find each other there. x
To stand in the shadow
of the scar up in the air.
for you alone.
With all there is room for in that,
Philip Levine, from “Gospel”
I don’t mean to sound so gloomy, but this space has been getting to me. I find it increasingly fleeting, anonymous and irritating. At the moment I am trying to find reasons to stay and it’s not coming easy.
Life is stressful, work is hard and my heart is receiving some form of life support. I have been trying to lift myself, with good company, healthy food, lots of exercise, and as always, books, films and music.
Forgive me if I’m not following your posts as much as I would like, but I can’t keep up with this hundred miles an hour dashboard (I don’t think I was ever quite able to do so).
I would like to say, meet me for coffee, but you are all so very far away. Or write to me, though I might never reply.
I will stay, for now. Or perhaps I have already gone.
You tell me it’s summer, you tell me that there are skies so blue it hurts to look at them. Here it seems like winter still, despite all the annoying blossoms. I feel out of place, I want to rip whatever beat there is left out of my chest. Take it, I don’t need it no more.
See also: the state of being away, absent-minded, leave of absence, perhaps I was never really here and I don’t know how to return.