When the weight of the world breaks my neck- thinking is trying. The heaviness is slow,quiet, curious in attitude. A predatory snake. Resisting is useless.
I see the future as a passage too narrow for comfortable breathing. This morning, the day organized herself with decisions similar to the day before. I have lived this week in the same order. Animals look happier on television programs.
Routine is a daily conflict. What atrocious imprisonment. The idea of being a product of time and place disgusts me more than vomit on a sink of a crowded train.
People say to enjoy my age. Others laugh when I rest my head on the table: "the enthusiasm of youth." And lastly, I've heard the not at all cliche "live a little" during profoundly uninteresting moments.
I am in search for a manual of instruction.
At birth, life said: "Here, create yourself"
With insufficient tools and a primitive voice, I swallow my ambivalence through transitional periods.
