I've got evil villains in my head.
I've fallen behind. I knew it was going to happen. I predicted it outside the bar while smoking a cigarette. I knew exactly how it would happen and could describe it in detail, every misstep, every bad decision, every hour slept in, every phone call avoided. I could tell you just how overwhelmed I would feel and how it would crush me and I would be dramatic, leaning back as if under a huge weight, and my voice would choke when I said the word crush.
And I’ve lost momentum too. It’s hard to chase forward when you’re in the past dreary clutches. My head spins around, unfocused. I see it all in piles. Piles. Piles of task. Piles of words and scribbles. Piles of notes. Piles of needs and wants. Piles. Piles on top of each other and piles on top of me. Piles like voices scolding. Piles in every corner of the room. Piles gone unruly, spilling onto the floor.
I'm trying to find myself in it. It’s like fishing in a running river with your bare hands. But without the silver reflection on the water and the sun beating down on your back.
All the mess surrounds me. I wear it.
I know, I know, I'm being weird and all this sounds weird. But its true I swear I feel this loss but I cant tell what’s gone anymore. And I dont have the time to look for it.
I'm behind. I've fallen.
I wish I could be less dramatic about it. I wish I could just spill it out in a very articulate essay that is both clever and informative and has a snarky pop culture sentimentality about it. I wish I were such a good writer that I could unfold my confusion into a brilliant string of words that not only would capture your imagination but also be a very good review to the new radiohead record. That would be pretty cool. I'm not that cool.