The words come quickly when things get hard. Maybe it's because the thoughts appear more extreme, more defined. And the last few days of January hit me with a sour note of melancholy. Defined melancholy.
The bigger picture got lost somewhere between bouts of disappointment and upset. Truth be told, it's still a little lost as I write this.
I saw only what was right in front me; a lack of this, a broken that, an empty mind and a loss of balance.
Imagine the annoyance you feel when your headphones tangle in your pocket. Forget that. Now, imagine what they look when they become tangled. That ball of knotted wire has been nesting in my head, stomach and hands for the most part of the last week.
It's confused me. It's hurt me. I've seen no sense and been a lymphatic so-and-so.
I couldn't see what was right in front of me.
I forgot to see that in a few weeks this won't matter, in a few weeks I'll have a few days away from full-frontal mayhem. I forgot that the next few days, perhaps, won't be as hard.
I forgot to see that in a few weeks this won't matter.
In a few weeks, this won't matter.
This won't matter.
It's the end of the world, sure, but it won't be forever.