An incessant buzzing.
Trite nonsense, spinning, and weaving,
Identified as foe rather than friend, in its 4am callousness.
Two hours of sleep yesterday, four hours of sleep only now.
To awaken to such irrelevance: it almost seemed malicious.
I was beginning to sense a construction take place.
In fact I quite literally saw it.
Revving up like a buzz saw; that god-awful record player.
Tedious, tired, interminable,
And that’s when I felt the skin behind my true face.
I felt smooth shapes and peaks and valleys of rubbery flesh.
The room seemed to come to me.
No, I couldn’t see: it was the sounds and the air and the bed springs below me.
Had I met my “maker”? It truly felt like I had.
I’d been tarnished the days before, lost in the obsession to understand technicalities.
Once I’m onto something, I can’t seem to stop. I must know All.
How it works, what happens if I touch this, press that, or pull this.
I’m one to poke the beehive to see “what happens” so I can be prepared “if it happens”, often to a detriment.
Sometimes I learn from the detriment, sometimes I don’t.
But this Rubik’s Cube is very much a distraction from the one I speak of now.
And I must admit that I was struck by worry and anxiety, having left it for the other, even only temporarily.
And then, this morning, when it really “shouldn’t” have . . .
Impossible to sleep after that.
And then it turned into a chase.
The engines started revving.
And I watched and I studied and then I watched and I studied why I was doing so in the first place.
I saw this reconstruction take place in real time.
And for a short while, the direct perception of it seemed to allow me precedence over it.
But as this structure grew increasingly sophisticated, so did its glass walls become increasingly transparent.
The allure of ideas and desires seemed to be greater than the allure of “nothing”.
The game is a game, but it seems to serve me.
Because I know that when I truly recognize whatever’s going on as insanity — I can and will step out of it.
It’s all in the perception.
I have no desire to sit and do nothing. I have no desire to simply survive or wait out my days.
But the game must be seen as a game.
What it is.
Why I play.
Which needs I feel it serves.
Where the blind faith lies.
Because it’s not at all clear.
It’s not at all black and white.
My relationship with time is changing rapidly.
I have never before felt the fear of time as I do now.
The higher the perceived stakes of the game, the more important time becomes.
But it’s also imbued with a newfound, heightened awareness of mortality.
Something I’ve never truly felt before.
And I’m grateful for this change, as it will drive me in a certain direction.
It will allow me to go forward, with eyes slightly more open.
But I sense the end is near, for those whom I care about.
Almost to the point that when I think about it, a pre-grieving takes place.
True or not, it seems I feel it’s best to assume the worst.
I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve been “pre-grieving” for myself as well. (Yes, I’ve certainly caught myself doing this.)
I grow frustrated when the minutiae of life takes hold of myself and others.
And though I still succumb to it on a daily basis, it seems my journey is largely one towards the non-trivialization of life.
I have no regrets. It’s the greatest cliche, but I couldn’t risk not being who I am today.
But to think of the years I’ve wasted thus far, is truly a shame.