Come on, skinny love, just last the year.
I went to church this morning. I mumbled to Tom, “It’s been a while since I’ve done this.” He had no response. I didn’t expect him to, I guess. I just wanted him to know. I thought going might help me feel…might ease the tension in my skull; might bring me back to Earth; might help me fight the silence with better words. Might streamline my thoughts and strengthen my spine.
It didn’t. The usual arch of my eyebrows occurred; the usual hum of my mind, while certainly quieter in the midst of the singing and listening, still ran. I sat out on some of the words and breathed into others and again found myself wondering, per usual, but why. But is this right.
Why do you need everything to be right?
I am so disillusioned. I am nauseous with disillusion. I’ve lived in this space for 676 days–justifying, validating, pushing– until I’ve lost all sight of my original goal. I’ve lost all motivation to delight in the fight. I’ve completely lost the taste for this. And I know I should glory…revel in my disillusion. I know I should embrace the disequilibrium and my inability to land my feet. Instead I have waves of nausea and sadness and incredible discontent. I roll out and roll in, like that red carpet down the aisle. Here I am, there I go. Here I am, nevermind.
I don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t want to participate in the bullshit anymore and I don’t want to play the games anymore and I don’t want to answer to anyone anymore.
I just want to be myself now. Where was I? Was I there in the church? I didn’t see you.