I guess it all means that I'm at a certain stage. Thankfully my anger has subsided for the time being, and I can just dive straight into the sorrow. Though sorrow may not be any easier, at least it's familiar ground. Not in the sense that I've had so much of it in my life, but only that it's not as totally foreign as deep seeded, uncontrollable anger. Thank God for that. Storm clouds arrive overhead as chaos dissipates. Not a storm of thunder, but a cold, damp, dark, overcast sky. Like a blanket wrapped around the soul, pinning it down. And then falls the slow, stubborn, erosive rain. Rain that patters lightly upon the skin, but feels like drowning. And it stays. And it intensifies, until a moment passes when the sun burns through once again and the sky opens. Light comes back to the eye and color fills the world. I breath and try to enjoy it. Close my eyes and take it in while I can. I know I stand here waiting for the next storm. Not anxious or nervous. Just still and open to influence. I looked into a person made from pure sunlight and it bought me a few days. I think of those rays and it buys me a few hours. And I suppose that's the pattern I shall live by during the rest of my time here. For this is not life, this is purgatory, my trial, and any feeling of positivity or joy that may come to me during this time I shall be extremely thankful for. It is not expected or required, only hoped for. And sometimes it does come. Comes and goes and defines the structure of the next imminent storm.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
In and out of the storm
Sometimes I sit in my apartment. All too often I sit for too long. I sit, I think, I go nuts. Then I think that maybe it's better if I go outside. Before I know it, out I've gone. walking blindly into whatever situation might best distract me. Swept up into the beautiful world of non-life. I call it non-life because it doesn't feel real, not compared to what I was spoiled with before. But there I find myself as the night grows stale, walking through the streets of Paris at 4 in the morning, alone, cold, crying. Got to move. Get on a bus, shit there's people. Wipe the tears, sit straight ahead, look out the window. A dizzy night, and a long morning trying to deduce if I dreamt it or if it was reality.
Posted by Brandon Rubesh at 7:33 PM