One day becomes another. The routine, what little prevails, bores to the point of numbness. Nothingness rules the day. Sameness becomes comfort. I am alive in the world but not a participant.
Lying in bed I hear the neighbor. She raises her voice to castigate her granddaughter, who at 10 believes she can do as she chooses. Something "over there" lures the girl. Threats fly; excuses fill the air.
Inside, the television silently relays the same sports news in a 30-minute loop interrupted at times by Judge Judy or Wheel of Fortune.
The cats offer diversions in 10-minute increments, the rest of the day they sleep on my crumpled sheets.
A half-empty bottle of Dr Pepper stands along side a bottle of water on the bedside table.
I sit in my chair alone with my thoughts at the witching hour. No hero prepares to rescue me.
Sometimes the scent of the rose carries such power you believe you can hold it in your hand. Memories much the same. But life, like the infinite tide, flays the detritus leaving the vulnerable and exposed.
I miss you, Dude.
Laters.
Incredible last paragraph. So very true. Sometimes I find, and don't you too?, the lack of purpose for each day is depressing in itself. There are days when I feel that depression tempting to take me back to bed. Those are the days I MAKE myself find something worthwhile to do, even if it's making the rounds online to encourage others. Sometimes that helps me, other times it only brightens someone else's day. Either way, it's good to do. Hope you have a good day today!!
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