an activity seems like an out of body experience. Emotions are seperate from
the act, and the body. Thoughts hover a few inches above the head, belonging
to a different person, yet belonging to me.
As my hands type out the words, the mind is surprised with their fluidity,
at the source of their thoughts, and even more surprised that they come from
the same source which is thinking this is weird. Like a circular reference
that isnt an error.
This heightened feeling is enhanced by a calm sense of 'being'. It is a calm
happy feeling which at the same time is melancholic and has a twinge of
sadness. A satisfaction at how things are, satisfaction which I know is
waiting to erupt into extreme dissatisfaction and sadness. Like sailing on a
boat, without an oar, rocking along with the waves, and knowing that this
peace is only temporary. That somewhere in the course of a river there is
bound to be a waterfall, and I will need to take out the oars. That nagging
thought which makes the peace twinged with apprehension. That one bit of
knowledge that takes the pretty picture and peaceful scenario and twists it,
ever so slightly, giving it a darker edge, a nagging doubt, somewhere deep
Like resting in the afternoon after a nice fat meal when I know that soon I
will have to go out in the blistering sun for that pre-appointed meeting
with an ex-colleague whom I really dont want to meet, but should, since I
have not done so in such a long time. The sour tinge of that thought can
ruin an afternoon of languishing in the cool shaded room at home. Because
the mind is away already, thinking ahead of when it needs to desert this
peace and tranquillity and head out.
Soon I know work will catch up, soon I will be shaken out of this and become
one with the alternate persona hovering around my head.