Sometimes, I am afraid I don’t care anymore about being a quote somewhere a long time away from now and I am afraid this is the death of ambition. I don’t like to wish time away and as soon as I do it–in a meeting or in a class or on a date–I pause and ask myself, why am I wishing this to end and if I am, why am I here to begin with? What would I rather be doing? Someone the other night, in my RA meeting nonetheless, said we should ask ourselves if we rock someone’s world. I am adding that to my little routine now (not the ‘why am I hear routine’ but others of the sort). Also, this person said we should imagine the most awesome life possible living and do it. I didn’t know people needed to be told that, because I think I have always just done just that.
Made Up
I forgot how hard it is to open the plastic coating on CD cases
and I forgot how easy it would be to just say I will put this away and not open it.
I have lived longer than I have loved you and I’d forgotten that too.
There was a time before, you know.
It almost makes me sad to realize that;
it is a relief and it is a horrible waste.
I wonder who Emily Brontë wanted
was he unemployed, married, gay?
Or was there no one at all so she made Heathcliff up
which is what we all do
this making up of other people
lovers and not
so our stories–
our lives–
are tellable to ourselves.
No comments:
Post a Comment