#inkb0n3s

it comes and it goes but where to and from?

personal.

witnessing little moments of secrets and smiles and generous affection and thoughtfulness really made me appreciate the steps ive taken towards better things and people in my life.

i am filled with joy, and i am chasing gravity so that when i pour over, i capture that spilled happiness.

i don’t remember who wrote it, and i don’t remember how the story goes, but i remember one part of the story where the man is in a cabin, snowed in, blizzard howling all around him, and he heard voices.  heard all his loved ones talking about him, around him.  he heard them having great parties, small get togethers, campfires, dinners, and drinks together.  

he slowly heard himself go insane, stuck in that tiny cabin in the woods, in the middle of the coldest winter he’d ever felt.  all the voices stopped speaking to each other, and started speaking to him.  they started to tell him that they didn’t miss him, that their lives were all richer for being rid of him.  he started to believe it. 

i feel a little like that now.  i can hear people i care about right next to me, having a good time without me. i can hear them having conversations about things we’ve talked about.  i can hear the insidious little whispers, the inklings of impertinent thoughts lurking under my covers. i’ve only been in here a week. i suppose being locked in a room for any length of time can do that to a person.  

but it just feels like i am not with it.

i am never present. nothing feels good anymore. not sunshine, not rain, not puffy clouds.

im losing time.

and i really cant talk to anyone about it.

sure there are people in my life. but its like a two way street. i share and i give and i create but there is nothing shared, or given, or created for me.

at least thats what i feels like.