We all have days or weeks where we're not ourselves, not fully anyways. Of course I'm me, who else would I be? But sometimes, every once in a while, things get a little out of hand and you can't be the fullest you that you want to be. At least, not to the rest of the world. When the universe kicks me in my dick, I normally get a little introspective and try and see how I can maybe do better the next time she pulls back for a field goal attempt between my uprights.
Sometimes, no matter how you look at it, you can't do any better. That's because the universe wants to humble you. You get thrown such a wild pitch that you're just in awe of how beautifully strange things can become. Then you realize you shouldn't mix baseball and cosmic metaphors because your message becomes muddied. Then you just keep plodding on because it'll probably work out in the end.
Which is exactly what you have to do when you're left with your mouth hanging open from the shock of how little the universe cares about you. Winston Churchill said "If you're going through hell, keep going" or something like that and it's pretty apt for what I'm talking about here. Imagine going to a restaurant you think is like any other, they will have food of some kind and drinks, probably. There will be some shit on the walls, there will most likely be some kind of dress code for the staff, and you'll shove the slop down your throat and have a great time. That's what you think you're getting, but then the luscious hostess pulls aside a curtain behind which is the most delectable buffet you've ever seen. You'd heard tales of such grand places but never thought they existed.
You have the time of your life and you feast upon the bounty of the harvest. You're drunk with hedonistic pleasure as you fall peacefully asleep dreaming of another trip to this paradise. But it's gone, shattered. Maybe it was an illusion? Maybe I'm just being overly dramatic. Probably both? Somehow, that makes sense. Somehow, I keep going.
I am dramatic, though. I also pontificate. Here with my hand words and elsewhere with my mouth words. It's terrible, or it's not. I don't know because I don't really question these things. I just have to accept them and it's not so much pontificating as it is thinking out loud. The last two weeks I've been thinking out loud almost solely about my own personal loss, to which, I've often said I need to laugh about.
What irks me most about this grief is that I legitimately can't tell if it's real or imagined. The uncertainty is concerning and if I knew one way or the other I could laugh, but I don't so I can't. It's insidious and I worry I may be losing touch again with reality. I know I'm not though so this whole thing is a huge concern. However, I suppose some actual (as opposed to metaphorical) exposition is necessary for further explanation.
A cosmic entity came across another cosmic entity and their outer nebulae commingled for a split second or simply eternity. It's impossible to tell when you have scope of this magnitude but it was long enough to have a permanent impact on their orbit. I've developed a spiritual wobble that's in tune with the imbalance of my previously perfectly balanced heavenly dance of astral bodies. I might have done the metaphor thing again* but I think I'm working through this whole thing a little better today than I was yesterday and so on and so forth.
I think this is a good song to summarize. It was actually the very first song I ever heard from Modest Mouse and it's just as poignant now as ever.
*What else is this meta for?
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