I am a slow person.
Used to be … I didn’t think this was the case. I would go up-and-down side to side all in a tizzy. Lots of drama. Lots of crazy.
I looked at my online activity today.
I do a lot. Nothing really STICKS. It’s just because it’s so BUSY all the time. It’s worse than the TV. Worse than the media has ever been. I have come to know that there is no way that I can succeed in this milleu. It’s getting depressing to me. I’m on the edge of some kind of crazy crash with these realizations. I have to get out of here, get into life somehow. Because nothing is consistent. Everything turns on a dime.
I can’t feel my body anymore. I am amorphous. What is a fact today is a fiction tomorrow. I can’t rely on things to be the same. And I know that this is good training. But I look at numbers and lists and groupings and the way I look at things from day-to-day and time just goes SO fast. I’m watching it all SHOOT by.
I want it to just … STOP. This is not who I am. I am so much more tactile and warm and skin and bone and blood and hair and sweat … than this.
You’d know this if you saw me or knew me. I’m not made of box and plastic. I guess I’m not as savvy as I thought. Sigh.