Sometimes I feel like I’m struggling to squeeze words out of a rock and my increasing fatigue is something that is trying to push and hold me away, and the longer it does so, the greater chance of success it has. Still, I stubbornly refuse to stop and go elsewhere. Need to do what I can where I can.
Anyway, today is one of those days. It is a day far longer in the tooth than I’d expect a day to be and it just seems to keep on pushing on. I struggle against its tide but all am is driftwood and I am not able to leave the water long enough to avoid being pulled back in.
There still are quite a few hours left in the day, however, and there still is time to push past all of this. I’m struggling to get these words out, but I’m getting there and I think I can get there, or I should say rather that I think I can continue to get there. Just a bit of an uphill.
The day itself is cold and windy and perhaps dreary, but in a way it makes it better for writing, though of course I’m just idealising the day as something that allows focus as it actually is not allowing focus. Still, if I can delude myself just enough to be able to finish some writing off, then I can do what I need to do and get to where I need to get, and perhaps that will soon be bed. Perhaps more rest will soon be needed.
I wonder if sometimes I’ve just pushed myself too hard for too long and now I just need to rest and that’s it. Sometimes I wonder if that is indeed the case. Of course that’s not necessarily limited to the continuing creation of waste here, but in all aspects. I wonder that but instead of changing things around I’ll just continue on as that’s what I’ve always done. I don’t seem to stop even though I strongly desire to and I don’t seem to rest in a healthy manner even though I increasingly need to and so on and so forth.
This isn’t really doing anything to benefit the writing today but I feel compelled to mention it as I’m in a state of fatigue and all that and you get the idea. Still, whilst probably undesirable, the weather is strangely appreciable. It offers something and even though I’m yet to discern what that is (at least in terms of symbolic meaning of the personal variety), it still is something I just like. It’s a bit cooler and there’s something about how the sky looks kind of dulled and unpleasant that I find pleasant.
The sky is bright. I might be willing to say that it feels brighter than it usually is, but the clouds hang there, smothering everything. They are almost uniform though there are subtle changes in the shading. Actually, maybe it isn’t subtle, but it seems to be subtle to me so I’m going to say the changes in shading are subtle.
Anyway, the changes in shading are subtly and at parts its almost as though the brighter bits are lines of brighter light breaking through, refusing to be smothered. Eventually they will get there, but as they do the sky will become less bright in appearance, or maybe it will remain as is as it returns to a familiar blue and the clouds make the light seem brighter due to their reflective nature.
Maybe I should try and take some sort of influence from the clouds and try and make my writing more like them; menacing and threatening. They threaten to rain upon my parade, but I will not let them. My parade will be out of the storm before the storm even knows what is going on. It will need to be so it can pull me away from the tide and so I can get up and go for a walk and take it easy and so on and so forth until the eternity finds something new to throw at me, though of course there is no eternity and I am merely being dramatic.
now the question becomes about why I have chosen to be dramatic, though there never was any question at all. There’s little to worry about in terms of questioning when it comes to this writing, but there certainly remains a need for sleep. I am going to push on through the rest of the day; I think I can get to the end, but I need to try and plan things out a bit so I actually can get there. If I can do it then I am set and it is smooth sailing for an hour and in that hour it is just rest and then it is sleep. If I can’t do it, well, I still have things I have to do today and so it will be in a dutiful manner that I see those things to completion.
However, that is the future and now is now, and I can’t live in what will come for I am here now and I only exist now. I will exist later, but I can never exist later as later is ahead of the present and I will always be here and so in this state of fatigue, of trying to squeeze words out of a rock whilst being pushed away by said fatigue is something I have to live now and cannot postpone, but I so very much wish I could. I wish I could push it to the side and never have to worry about it, but I cannot and so I will keep on squeezing that rock. I will keep on doing so and get through this and get to the end and then I’ll be able to rest.
That said, I do wish the rock didn’t require as much force.
The time it took to write one thousand words: 13:22:14
This was a bit of a struggle to write and I probably could’ve kept it a bit shorter.
It drags a bit in places and the writing is clunky. Still, I get something across.
Written at home.