There are days in life when you know exactly what’s going on, who’s where, and how everything will eventually turn out. Days when you’re at the top of your game. Days when you are nigh on clairvoyant(!), about everything that happens – you are prepared! Nothing gets past you. You are Bruce Lee and tasks are all those opponents who get their asses handed to them a beating a minute. You are a master of ‘Enter the Dragon, The Drunken Master, and Dude in a Ditch.’ And who doesn’t like days like these. When everything just seems to fall into place. What is effort at a time like this, do you even – I have never heard of such a thing. I was born this way.
There are days where your place in the cosmos is unsure. When you are floating around like a form of bacteria, drifting from space to space and direction is just not in your league. Sounds a lot like most people in their day jobs. But that’s not it precisely. Wherever you are, you can’t help but feel slightly disoriented. Like someone took out your batteries mid-operation and you’re standing there trying to remember what you were saying. Days like these are hopeless. Because you never really know how they go, or what you’ve done in it. Like eating in a restaurant whose food you’ve never had before so you’re expecting really anything.
Those days when you wake up in the morning and something happens that just sours your mouth for the entire day. And it doesn’t even necessarily mean the rest of it will be bad, but just that your outlook on that day will be dark, so all good experiences hence will have lost their enchantment. You will not be pleasantly responsive, or even mildly efficient. You’ll be dead-eyeing all your associates so much they won’t immediately wanna talk to you. At the end of it, you start feeling guilty though because of how mean and sarcastic you probably were the entire time, which sucks; you really don’t wanna…So the entire day is executed half-assed like this until you literally go to bed.
Then there are the days when you are spoiling for a fight. Right off the bat the first person that talks to you before you even leave the house will not know what hit them. A fellow walks into the bathroom and starts having it out with the water for not being hot enough, the toothpaste for not being just the right amount of minty, and the eggs that you made that were too sunny. By the time you get to work, you have re-invented the car, re-designed the structure of the house, and re-engineered the human body. Your colleagues have a bead on you the minute you walk through the front door.
Then you have those days that make no sense whatsoever. Days when you are so completely off the loop you could be in a different dimension. Everything makes no sense. Or is it you that’s slow? It’s probably you. Everyone else is doing alright. Deadlines keep popping up and you miss each one. You fall through on your appointments. You don’t have answers to questions you should know. It’s an all-round disaster zone. All you want is for this day to end. The anxiety eating you up inside is maybe the worst part of it.
What I’m trying to convince myself is; it all changes. They all have an end. I don’t know how they leave you, I don’t know if survival is a good thing. I don’t think there’s a choice. If you’re not there you’re here. And here, therefore, you must do something.
She hates in-betweens. She hates waiting. It tears down both mountains on either side of the valley. Until a bunch of rubble is all that’s left. That might be a good thing. Control is an illusion. The wind in her ear, as it rushes in from outside her window, the green land passing by in a blur. Inhale. The sound of a flute coming out of the dashboard. The heaving, breathing of her chest as it pulls in the air, desperate for serenity. Her eyes are closed and her chin is pressed to her sternum as she listens to the rapid beating of her heart. Inhale. Her arms are folded tight around her middle. She feels the whispers of destiny in her blood. Inhale. Then she remembers the rubbles around the valley.