But oh, the awful truth is just that so much is dependent on one's nose not dripping, or one's head not feeling as though it is being prepared for Egyptian burial. So much is dependent on feeling like all of one's atoms are in agreement, vibrating though they may be. Some days, the days of worse uncertainty, they threaten to zap away in all directions, a sudden reversal of scientific law.
A day removed from my own life, I am like a ghost in this apartment. Observing, from this new, empty perspective. And what is there to see? Not enough, to fill all this time. A rattling, steamy kettle. The violent red of the backyard tree’s leaves, they glow, nearly, but the color cannot be captured digitally. A box of cake mix, a can of beans. The ghost sits in the corner, haunting. A jar full of doubts.
To be terrified is to be alive, or so I say to myself. At those most vibrational moments, when the spaces between certainties are the largest, I am most free from risk. What more is there to lose, how much further could I shake away, dissipate? Alright. I will just blow my nose, and wait it out, and let. Let things open and close, as they do, as they will.
Originally published over at A Thing of Today.
