I feel like I’m dusting something off, but this is a website so I guess I’ll do the next best thing and smear my finger across my screen.
There. Or something like that.
I haven’t had to write in a while. Things have been so busy, with work and work and — wait for it — more work that I haven’t been able to mull over my existence or the absurdity of living or any of my other favorite panic topics.
Instead, I’ve been clocking in and clocking out, but not in a monotonous, soul sucking way. Rather, that’s just how I mark off the time, and in between THEN and THEREAFTER, I’m doing plenty.
The other day, I was working and then I looked up at the clock and six hours had passed as though time were nothing
(because time is nothing, something that still troubles me but not in the sickening way that it used to)
and suddenly, the PRESENT was staring me in the face, and that felt oddly reassuring, until the moment slipped away and I was left with the same slow-burning dread that’s been hollowing me out all summer.
It’s so easy, to remember how it felt when I finally shucked off the responsibilities of the school year and dived into what was primed to be the best summer ever. I was going to do great things; I was going to meet great people; I was going to reach heights I’d never even seen before.
And while all these things came true, somewhere along the way, I let up my furious march forward, and now I follow time cautiously, and fear creeps back into my step, and the desire to go back, go back and do it all again, to live in this loop and never come out, begins to take root.
This has been a helluva summer. But when it ends, it’s going to break across my heart, and I’ll feel the sweet undertow of nostalgia calling me into the voiceless void of the past.
Maybe things will settle when time becomes a vise and I’ll be grasping onto the edges of the day, but maybe my biggest mistake is simply believing that there was ever any way to hold on at all.