babys

it's different now

Everything is so different. Nothing is familiar anymore, I can't rest comfortably anymore; it's like I'm stuck in some sort of hazy subconscious.

I wish I could write like I used to. If I could still experience that gap between thinking and feeling: I could write. I want to visit that place again; the expanse, the in-between that sits just above my mind but not quite in the clouds. And I don't know if it's because I'm much happier or much sadder. My emotional state is constant and undefinable. I can only write about writing. I can only write about the absence of words. The extent to which I am not inspired is parallel with my desire to write, both strong. This distance, this discomfort, is similar to the gap between where I am and where I want to be - the trap of my age. I belong to where I am going. I don't belong to the here and now I belong to what is up there.