swimming through the current

The last bunch of days after days blurred and blended and then disappeared, and they did not take me with them. I am here and I woke up today after I don’t know how many weeks spent asleep and I wonder how my absence went unnoticed for so long. I don’t remember much from the last couple months (due to chemicals, repression, or both), but it’s somehow mid-March, and since I am alone save for seldom, there’s no one who can fill in the blanks.

I guess I got by. I guess I fed myself. I guess I went to work and went home and showered and slept. I guess I got by. I guess I fed myself. I guess I went to work and went home and showered and slept. I guess I got by. I guess I fed myself. I guess I went to work and went home and showered and slept. I guess that continued. I guess that it had to. But isn’t circling just spiraling in two dimensions?

What differentiates your days and how can you tell you are alive and moving forward and making progress and making changes and changing lives and living one too and gaining skills and being useful and making money and spending money and giving away everything you don’t have and never knew you needed. What brings you from where you were to where you are and what mode of transfiguration did you use and where can I purchase one and could I get a fair price if I decide to go used?

Not making waves, but riding them. Not making waves, but being held underwater for a few seconds too many before realizing that one too has passed and there is still sand under feet and between ten toes and you can find strength to stand up and blink saltwater from eyes with a close and with an open you see the color of a mother’s umbrella where she’s staked out in the sand. Waiting worried but remaining as a caring constant from the safety of the shore you walked away from to see if you could swim.  

A relief washes over me like an awesome wave that I let push me under if for nothing else than to remind myself of what it means to stand back up again. Tides recede. Fogs lift. Days blur and blend. I am still here. I am still here. I am still here.

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