I
The sweat pools in the creases of my skin. I try to take in the beautiful scene before me, the budding spring, but all I can think of is the relief I imagine will greet me the moment I swing open my apartment door. The line of cars is an ever-growing, wriggling snake as they bounce between stop signs before coming to a complete stop at the increasing line before the red light. They bob back and forth gently, as if they were in a river, or like the honeybees bumbling around. There’s almost a crash, the honeybee and I, as it zips through the air to its next flower. We all look serene from afar but are truly anxious to reach our destination. Everyone has somewhere they would rather be. That is the nature of humans.
II
I flick all the fans on in my apartment as I arrive flustered from my walk. It’s not hot enough to put the air on, and in a few minutes when I acclimate to my new climate the fans will go off. I beeline to my bed to find my pen and journal stashed to its side. I read, I am inspired, I write. That is the duality of the reader and the writer. It’s easy to be both; it’s hard to be just one. Some writers have a particularly striking influence on me, almost priming my mind with their words so I can find mine. If only they could lend me a subject. I am hungry to write, but I am unsure what about. I don’t know that I’m a worthy subject, although I love a good memoir. I have a few things about myself, my life, that I could wring dry to then mold into something good. Sometimes I have a few good ideas, but expanding upon one leaves me empty afterwards, with the other ideas using the distraction to escape through my mind’s back door. One writer says if you forgot it, it was never a good idea. Yet at the same time, David Lynch famously bemoaned forgotten ideas. He’s continuously said the prospect of forgetting a good idea makes him want to commit suicide. A bit more intense than I’d like, but I’d rather relate to him than whoever it was whose name I can’t even remember.
III
Well, I already told you; I forgot it.
Well, I hope you liked this week’s post! It’s somewhere between a short story and longer, unstructured, prose poetry, a line that I find hard to draw at times. Stay tuned for more weekly posts. I’ve been really busy lately, so my ideas have kind of been all over the place. I thought it would be fun to post this right after I wrote it in my journal. I edited a few things, but it’s mostly true to what I wrote in that one singular draft. Oh, and there’s five stars drawn at the top on the actual page.
Loved it 😍. I felt like I was right there with you on your walk
Showing a deep side of yourself without speaking but thru writing is an excellent way to shed sum unwanted mental weight.