Yesterday, I moved through the day with quiet energy. I felt directed, focused, purposeful. Not frenetic activity. Ease. Contentment.
I felt comfortable.
This doesn't happen often. I examined it, turning over this feeling in my mind. Noticing how my body felt, how it didn't hurt. How my mind felt, how it didn't race. It was lovely.
It evaporated later, in a room full of people talking aroud me. I kept missing the boat, I didn't say what I wanted to say, and then it was too late. So I left with too many thoughts in my head. Crowded. And I woke up this morning thinking about bills and packing. I woke up and stayed in bed, telling stories to myself.
Telling stories of past love, past pain. Telling stories of my life to phantoms.
I'd much rather tell them to you, live and in person, in the flesh-and-blood.
Posted by thevieve at October 26, 2006 8:17 AM