I haven’t been sleeping much, but I also haven’t been having hard days. The three ish hours I sleep continues an extension of thoughts, often of a nature where things pan out as I want it. I don’t know if that is entirely good or bad.
I am having a dream, in my body, so it is only fair that things go my way, right?
But it has made me think about how unfair I could get when I am not ready.
Sometimes I wish I communicated more, sometimes I wish I am communicated to more.
Sometimes I’m too distracted to think about it.
But I do every once in a while, especially on mornings like this, where my head has given me a break from chaotic thoughts, where everything feels clear, where I think on certain actions and my reaction to them.
Where I want to try again, but question if there is any essence at all to it because an end will still come.
But ends becoming is a concept I have long reconciled with, and it never used to be the reason I chose not to pursue whatever it was I desired to at that point in time.
But it’s harder to simply … do these days.
I’d say, because it has proven true more times than I care to think of, that when I cannot hold myself back anymore, I simply will push forward. But even that stance is approached with much hesitancy these days.
And while I end up doing sometimes still, it is approached with a readiness to embrace an immediate end – one I do not seek, for I would not have tried altogether.
It is wariness with punctures of bravado that lets up when enough quiet has filled the silence.
I don’t like to leave things to happenstance.
I do not know how to.
I am too curious to know, and at the time I want to. For one who takes quite the time before letting any out even though she insists it is because she knows not how to do otherwise, it is .. something.
I don’t think too much about the things I do not know or would be unable to know, but this morning, I think.
I write this to clear out some thoughts in my head and understand them.
I’ll now go back to faffing around till sleep nudges me to its embrace.
Written- 15 April 2022.
I still remember where my head was at when I wrote it, the happenings of the time, and the subjects that inspired it.
Here, I was being served what I had been serving for months, and I wondered if there was any point trying to make amends because I did not trust myself to not do the same things that got me in the mess.
It seemed like I was loosing all the people I cared about. I had become that person that only responded when she cared to talk. I would leave messages unanswered to for days, months in some cases, and would come back, expected to be received with open arms, when I had not been present. For most, I had assumed it was a mutual agreement of sorts, to reach out even after long periods, but I got challenged about it, and fact was that there was only one constant.
I was the one who would dip, and then still be received. I hardly paid mind to them when they did the reaching out, and writing that afforded me a bit of clarity. My inaction was one so rooted in carelessness that it now became hard to even try to do better. And I was going to try to do better.
I am doing better. One day at a time. I really just need to be more conscious of things happening outside my head, and doing that is hardly exciting because my head holds me prisoner yet it is where I feel the most freedom.
ỌMỌGE FEMII 