staying alive

It all got a bit... bland, like a dry piece of steak. The days blended together, washed out into a big seamless nothing.

I keep telling myself I will go back to meticulously detailing my life every day, that it is just a matter of habit and I will get back into it... but my diary sits on my bedside table, sullen and forlorn.

I used to examine my life in minute detail, as carefully as a scientist might inspect a new bacteria, or document the mating patterns of the bogong moth. Everything, every second of my life, was processed through a sieve with such fine holes that none of the meaning remained.

These days I live in a sort of big primordial soup, where all my experiences are pooled into one, where I deal with the events each day as they come, organically and naturally, blundering about in the dark.

2013-07-28
2:32 p.m.
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