Honestly, it’s just so empty.
6/10/25 06:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alasanonThere are things I want to talk about. I have moments of inspiration (I read. A BOOK. And it made me want to do the thing again. But the thing has been again pre-empted by a headache and joint pain and tired tired tired tired)
But they pass through me and so often I don’t even attempt to clutch at them.
I feel like a lot of this year was like that — transient ideas whipping past me and my gaze turned dull, watching them go.
It’s not all bad, I suppose. I have those ideas, those moments of watching the sky and thinking of a dreamy metaphor or the way that those characters would touch each other’s faces, slyly or shyly or cautiously. I see plants blooming and think thoughts about them, about the delicate tilt of a petal or fragile wilt of a leaf. I observe the … yes, go ahead and say it, it’s the word of the month. Rot. And do think:
New life will grow from this, but first the old has to decay.
But they pass through me and so often I don’t even attempt to clutch at them.
I feel like a lot of this year was like that — transient ideas whipping past me and my gaze turned dull, watching them go.
It’s not all bad, I suppose. I have those ideas, those moments of watching the sky and thinking of a dreamy metaphor or the way that those characters would touch each other’s faces, slyly or shyly or cautiously. I see plants blooming and think thoughts about them, about the delicate tilt of a petal or fragile wilt of a leaf. I observe the … yes, go ahead and say it, it’s the word of the month. Rot. And do think:
New life will grow from this, but first the old has to decay.
