On some level, I’m aware that I’m a mote on the surface of a giant spinning ball, that’s curling an immense circle around an even bigger giant ball (this time fiery) that is actually spinning around some even bigger cluster of stars in an even bigger circle. (Which may or may not be spinning around something else, I’m not sure).
And of course, all of that is expanding outwards from some eternally incomprehensible origin point in the middle.
Which is all a great way of really briefly distracting from the fact that I’m going absolutely nowhere. Doing absolutely nowhere. Treading water in an immense sea of pointlessness that seems to pretty much be built up out of my own unwillingness to push for more/better/anything.
And I don’t even know where the unwillingness comes from. Laziness is such a weird thing. Every bone of me is aware that all I need to do to sort myself out is to take a one step after another, and keep moving forward. But a plague of self doubt and mis-direction means I have no confidence that I could either find a route to tread or even lift my feet.
Constant distraction, spinning me around and keeping me trapped in the now.That seems to be the closest I’ve got. Like I say, treading water.
And the ocean carries me up and down, and quite often presents an illusion of movement, even the hope of flight.
And I’m pretty sure if I could get over myself and make the right motions, we live in a universe where flight is possible. I’ve just got to approach it right and persist. Metaphors don’t have to obey the laws of physics.
But my mood swells up and down, and happiness is so short sighted, and sadness can see miles into the future, but doesn’t see anything but itself.
And I can’t help but think that right now. I’m a meaningless being, fail to achieve that tiny amount that I could if I bothered to put my mind to it.
I’m going nowhere, and I’m not even going there fast. I’m plodding, one foot after the other, on the spot.
I desperately need to find some way to convince myself that I’m at the beginning of a journey, not the end. Tell myself that things can get better. Show myself a new way of moving that might actually start to fill my life with the kind of living I feel like I should be doing.
Right now, I’m going to work. And as my eyes unfurl and my heart opens, I’ll probably step out of this bleak mist and remember what the future is. That’s how it works. From nowhere to open in a few minutes.
And one day I may figure out how to stop going back on myself, and maybe one day I’ll be moving forward.
But right now, that’s the absolute best I can hope for. Sorry.
This is why we avoid questions about me.
Illustration by Sam