Starting to feel a great fatigue from all the noise. All the commotion. Am I ever going to feel at ease again? Will there ever be quiet?
I have all these fantasies about leaving the chaos. Getting away to somewhere quiet and simplifying my life even moreso than I already have, but I really wonder if it will actually happen. Time just keeps getting away, sneaking past faster and faster. My head is never quiet. No matter what I’m doing, I need to be doing something else. Not want. Need.
I feel like I have my arms full of stones. And the one I need is always on the bottom. And everyone else is always asking for one. But they won’t just shut up and let me find it before asking for a different one. Nor will they think for a moment about whether they even need any of them at all, or what they’re going to do with them when they get them. Nor will they even remember one from the next, or appreciate them. And they’re getting all chipped and scuffed because I keep shuffling them around and dropping them on the ground. And if I could just have a minute to get them all in some kind of order, it would all go a lot better. But there’s no time. There’s never time.
And I really just want to drop them all, and say f*ck it, deal with your own damn stones. But they’ll still be there. Because life is an armful of stones. They’re what we collect along the way.