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Taking and Leaving

I stand, and the overwhelming exhaustion pushes me back, forces me to accept gravity and the weighing of the illness. To take it forcibly. I sit back down.

On the edge of my vision, I see my flesh move, absent of my mindfulness. I am stuck.

I will myself to do things, and my body, moving through mud, resists with its fleshy lethargy.

I know that this is more than the illness, more than the sickness. And that is what makes it so unbearable. The thought that, if I was not sick, would I be moving about – putting my life into action and continuing on?

And I cannot find the reassurance of an answer, I cannot quiet my outrage, my frustration, my constant appraisal.

Life is what happens to you while you make other plans. Life is . . .

What happens. People that say this, I think, have never committed to actually believing it. It is professed by those who desperately seek to control things; people who have subsequently discovered that no matter how they will the situation, it does not end the way they had engineered.

But, I do not know what I want. I do not have the notion, the gene, the ambition that is making plans. I am not sure about so much, about myself and this world and people and what type of wine to order. I do not know Chicago’s intersecting streets, or international trade law.

I could. The harrowing thing is this: I could. But in my narrow, overly-active little mind, these things are all exclusive. Once there is a commitment, once a path has been picked, the other things are lost.

And I am not ready to lose anything –yet. Not when I am still vacillating, still determining what is worth keeping.

And what to lose.

Posted by Clarissaag on 2008-07-11 01:09:28 | Rating: