Morning Pages December 14, 2013
Sometimes I’ll just ball up. I can’t take the world and I don’t have the fuel. I get the wrong kind of text message from the wrong kind of friend and I’m out of operation for a long weekend. That’s a misfire, a neuron or socket malfunctioning. It shouldn’t work like that. I should be able to brush off things, but there’s too much purchase. I stick.
I’ll just stare out for a little bit and wonder if other people are like this, if this is normal. I ask myself that a lot. Is what I’m doing normal? It’s a kind of ghost calibration. I’ll order food and realize I have no money. Inaction. Things get cancelled. I cancel. I can’t say what’s wrong. It’s just an empty box. It’s just a fog. I want to be able to zoom in and get some detail, hold down a modifier key and feel like a prize fighter. I want to roll weird dice and move upward, and feel like ascension means something. But every step feels like entering a pie eating contest.