Not getting it right
When I don't have the answer, I don't have it. I'm nowhere near it. I can't picture it, can't smell it, can't hear it, can't imagine it. If there is any chance at all of having it, at least one of those conditions is true. When none are true, it's killer. I can't sleep, don't eat right, can't sit down or can't stand up, can't deal with it and can't tell anyone I can't deal. This doesn't apply to the little stuff, the dailies, the problems that get labeled problems. I'm talking about the things where a label would be inaccurate or a lie. I don't know what word to use. What's a word for that? Condition, maybe. Not when it means my terms, not when it means ailment, and especially not when it's absolvingly passive and bucketed in concrete, but when, vacuumed out, it means the sum of circumstances and nothing more. Circumstance at its core is no cop-out. Everyone is standing around, and I'm standing with them. Then count ways in which we stand, verging on infinite, and condition isn't bullshit either. Its roots are in agreement. I can't claim condition and not accept participation. I've got to scrawl my name. So, when I don't have the answer and don't have it, that's why I want it so damn bad.
Every night now, sleep feels like something other people have. Last night I slept with the blinds open, yards of purple glass six floors up where only the glow and the mile-off apartments where those people sleep can see the snooze lighting every few hours. I don't know why, except to try something different and to hope sleeping with the sky and waking up with the sun felt comfortable. But the sun didn't come out today, and I was awake before it would've shown anyway. Again, don't know why. While I can't physically go without sleep, though, I can go without knowing why I can't sleep. It's that work and love and Halloween feel the same way that's more the trouble. The Halloween thing is stupid. What kind of idea person can't come up with a costume for years. But the bigger deal stuff has the same issue. Years go by and so much is good and still that amount is ultimately wrenching and small compared to what's unresolved. You tell me to have patience, that this is a conceit, that I can't expect to wake up one morning and realize the answer, but I want to know why else I should wake up.
How to get anywhere from here, I don't know. Distraction isn't enough. Pushing the rock up the hill harder obviously doesn't work either. How do you work toward realization? Acknowledging participation seems like a start. But I've been there a while now, years. To anyone who's met me more recently, the frustration must make no sense, and I'm so sorry for that. When you know what's missing is all around you and yet beyond your senses or words, you — I — just want it so damn bad.
