I really don’t know what is happening anymore. Everyone is so busy. Everyone is so entangled in their own business. But why is it that I don’t have that? Why can’t I be busy, too? Why can’t I have my own business anymore? Nobody wants to hear it anymore, I don’t want to hear it anymore. I feel like time has been slowing, just oozing, like rot. Yet despite that, the feeling that surrounds me, five feet in front of me every ten minutes is a train wreck. Everything is so slow yet so fast, everyone is so fast and I’m so slow. I’m about to light the wick of the candle. I just need the spark. There have been close calls, but I really need that flint-lock magic. It’s going to happen regardless what anybody says, it feels. Or maybe it did happen. We just need to see what happens when the wax is almost gone - will the wick burn out, the wax remain, or will it all waft away in a wisp of smoke and particulate? Or will something come close by, only to catch flame? Then that too must burn away. But so be it. If that’s what had been formulated all this time…so be it. No regards, nothing, no trying to change what the mind chooses on a whim, there’s no turning back on a lit wick without a warm breeze to extinguish it. But that’s a lie, isn’t it? You can put out a candle by more than giving it a helping ‘blow,’ it can be smothered, it can be watered, or plucked. But when the flame is just too intense..
This is all ridiculous. It’s like a crash course in fucking yourself over.
3 years ago • Notes