some days
Some days, the bad ones, are infused with the bitter taste of what passes for the new normal.
A letter, a visit to the doctor's, seemingly benign circles on the calendar. These days, the not so good ones, are spent suspended high above the world in perpetual limbo - the heaviness of worry settling in the pit of our stomachs and taking our breaths away.
I can't say which is more difficult: the actuality of the bad days, or the expectation of having them. Maybe because i am unhappy with imperfections, i try to iron out every crease in my imperfect world. That may be my tragic fault. If i could only live with them, instead of ignoring them and beveling the jagged reality of the present, i would not find it so hard to understand things as they are.
Some days, the good ones, are filled with simple, mindless things.
Idle chatter about idle matters, complete with occasional outbursts of spontaneous laughter. A phone call. Folding laundry, still warm from basking in the sun. A home cooked meal after a long day. A song. Little nothings, full of what used to pass for normal.
A letter, a visit to the doctor's, seemingly benign circles on the calendar. These days, the not so good ones, are spent suspended high above the world in perpetual limbo - the heaviness of worry settling in the pit of our stomachs and taking our breaths away.
I can't say which is more difficult: the actuality of the bad days, or the expectation of having them. Maybe because i am unhappy with imperfections, i try to iron out every crease in my imperfect world. That may be my tragic fault. If i could only live with them, instead of ignoring them and beveling the jagged reality of the present, i would not find it so hard to understand things as they are.
Some days, the good ones, are filled with simple, mindless things.
Idle chatter about idle matters, complete with occasional outbursts of spontaneous laughter. A phone call. Folding laundry, still warm from basking in the sun. A home cooked meal after a long day. A song. Little nothings, full of what used to pass for normal.
Moral of the story? Don't take the little things for granted.
