Friday, June 22, 2007

Today I feel...

Restless. Like I want to travel the world or get lost in the mountains. Is it summer? The passing of the solstice and knowing that everything from now on is just less and less light all the way until the year is over and I'm a number older and I can't find where this number disappeared to?

Maybe I've overstayed my welcome in this city, which is crazy to feel like since it's only now that I know people, feel like there's a group to belong to and a person to call when I'm bored and so many places I've never been.

It's the breeze that I can feel across my bare feet, how it slips in through the open windows, and the heat hasn't yet become unbearable, and there's still time before I have to return to work. I could leave, go somewhere—but where? Shouldn't I be here, like it's an office, like I have a full-time grown-up job, like I'm an adult?

I should finish that chapter. I should finish the novel. I know what to write—it was there a moment ago, the words appearing on the page in my brain, and the words on that page are always better than the ones that show up on the screen. Even when they're not.

I should... I should... I should...

But I'm not, because impatience is tied to restlessness with a silver ribbon—wrist bound to wrist with a chain made of satin—and where one is the other must be.

1 comment:

Rachel said...

I love reading you.