Saturday, 15 November 2014

Being ILB

Today, I have drifted. Doing what I always used to do - which is to say, nothing in particular. An empty day of hopping from one activity to another to fill up an otherwise useless void of day, devoid of sense of purpose or will to do anything, taking on activities such as walking to the shop or eating a bowl of muesli for the purpose of just existing - preferring, much as I may be disallowed, to just switch off my seemingly omnipresent brain, let every muscle in my body go and just fall into a heap of nothingness onto a soft surface, such as my bed of the big red chair in the living room, with stuffed rabbit or warm cat for company, and just not be for a while.

I have felt listless - like I could be active, but saw no reason to. Sounds tune themselves out around me without my needing to do so, and when I get emotional, it all comes and goes too quickly, like a tap that springs a leak and seals itself once more. Time, it appears, has done its best to escape my attention - to the point that now, when I look at the clock in the corner of my computer screen, I an surprised by the fact that it's no longer mid-afternoon, and that either I spent longer reading the fantasy novel that I'm reading (with annotations by my dad) than thought - or a shorter time reading it, and I myself seem longer.

Today has been dragging its feet across the ground, and I have been freewheeling through infinite space and time, ungrounded, unsettled, and uncertain.

And then I realise that, when all is said and done, I would really like a shag.

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