It amazes me how one can talk oneself into feeling things. Or not feeling them. Or how one can manage to just turn off a certain part of one’s mind. Everytime I realise what exactly comprises my life at the moment I get upset. I grind my teeth and rub my eyes. I take deep breaths and count out whole legions of tens. I make plans, I set goals, I tell myself that everything will be all right (rock-a-bye).
And then I get an email from a friend; I scroll through photos to print them; I watch a movie, or a sitcom, or even a video clip; I read a book; I actually look at the photos lined up all over my room; every so often I come across a post like this or this, someone I know makes a trip to NY or plans one (Acrosticus will probably be there this Fall and oh oh oh I won’t be there with him), and I suddenly realise just how much I DO miss it, just how much I’ve chosen to leave behind, just what I’ve walked away from and just how many doors I have closed.
And I wonder, was it a choice born of reason and feeling or was it one born of fear?