I didn’t sleep well yesterday.
At this point, I’m not sure if I should blame it on the windows letting too much light in, the fact that I should’ve known better than trying to fall asleep after the sun came up (without the windows covered), or all of the thoughts and ideas swirling around like little smoke clouds inside of my head.
I’m going to do this tomorrow. That’s something to do. There’s a new bit of something to add to the game plan.
I’m sure it was a combination of all those things. So forgive me (in advance); I’m far too tired to have the sense of what I do and don’t want to say.
While walking upstairs from my last cigarette break, I was thinking about bubbles. Not the pretty sort with the little rainbows on them, floating around easily before they burst apart in a spray of tiny suds. I’m talking about the kind of bubbles that we find ourselves trapped inside of periodically throughout life – or that we step into willingly.
My life is a life of bubbles, I realize. It sounds ridiculous; I’m coherent enough to know as much. I’m trying to find the words to explain it correctly and I’m failing. I hate feeling like I’m failing words. I can’t express how much I hate it.
I lived in whatever bubbles suited me best at whatever time when I was growing up. Varying colors, varying opacity, varying space.
I’m not sure that I really knew what that meant until now, thinking about the way they’ve changed for me…or the way that I’ve changed for them. I’m not sure.
When I was writing my books, I was stuck inside of these impermeable bubbles. I couldn’t see out of them. I don’t think that anyone could see inside of them. Maybe they could a little and I was too busy admiring the beauty of it alone from the inside. They were so beautiful.
I’m inside of a new one now – one that I can see out of clearly. I can see all the beauty outside while it passes by me. Life. Life is beautiful, no matter how much bad we experience throughout the course of each of our own.
Right now? I feel like I’m stuck here, waiting for that damn bubble to pop.
I think we’ve all had our moments where we felt like life – in all its intricacies, and roads, and deceptions, and potholes – was passing us by. I think we’ve all felt stuck before.
My problem right now is I can’t explain the difference in that feeling and what I’m actually feeling at this moment. They are two COMPLETELY different things. And I’m failing words again.
I’m so sorry that I can’t do you better justice.
Taking a step back.
Those moments of feeling stuck while you were watching life…I know that every time I’ve experienced it, I always felt that some force was holding me back from what I wanted to do – whether it was myself, situations, or another person. THAT is how this moment is different. There’s nothing at all holding me back, but there I am, still trapped and watching.
It’s new. Almost equally unpleasant. Possibly more so because I can’t really understand it. Possibly more so because I’ve allowed myself to be open to the endless possibilities. Possibly more so because I finally have a dream.
It will happen. I know that it will. I don’t care if it’s my own determination, some talent that I can’t actually see, or just the natural way that bubbles disintegrate and disappear when exposed to the air. It will happen.
I need to work on my patience. With myself.
I know this was way deeper/emotional/ridiculous than my usual entries. Sorry.
I just figured I’d try that thing where getting stuff out makes you feel better.
I’d rather write a book.
I don’t fail words so easily when I’m doing that.