There are days and days when I live inside my head. Automated days. The ticks and steady tocks of each grey and marching day utterly irrelevant to the wild internal riot.
I sometimes wonder if the people around me can see. If they notice that I’m not myself. That I’m inside out and all over the place. That I feel caged. Fettered. Pacing, pacing through the narrow, shadowed walls. Unable to articulate the kaleidoscope of running thoughts ricocheting in my head. That on days like these every decision looms like a leviathan. Every choice a different path; life changing, uncharted. When every word is a Chinese puzzle to be examined, unlocked, understood. Each word within its string a map to different meaning.
Distracted, mistimed, out of keeping with the usual unfolding of my quite life. I can’t slow it down. I can’t stop the endless, grinding review.
And I know what I’d say, if this wasn’t me, but rather someone else, caught in the machine. I know what advice I’d give, what path I’d recommend. It’s as clear as a ringing bell. (Wry smile and a nodding acknowledgement to the irony of the voice of reason.) But that’s the thing. It always is. It’s not as easy. Complicated. Layered with what if. Driven by deeper things. Singing lei lines. Invisible binding things. And, too, unutterable things. Things that hover on the dark edges. That scutter and run when the shadows move. I know.
And yet, through it all, like a hum, there’s a certain knowing. A calm that says; why all the fuss. Why the raging. Let it down. Set it free. Don’t rail and heave. Take a deep breath. And breathe.