**a post from the archives of the dead blog**
These are the days that unfurl themselves before me, the slow solid mounds of time that I need to chip away at. Slowly, softly.
I wake at an obscene hour, a bad taste in my mouth. Slow stumble to the bathroom, water splashing away sleep. Then a clumsy amalgamation of clothes, an approximation of beauty.
I mix myself the lumpy green concoction, mouth it down without tasting it. Spit to get the scent out of my mouth. I rinse the glass, the sounds of soap and water echoing too loudly.
Then I start reading the words of others and despairing of my own. I write dozens of emails I never send. I stare blankly at the screen and wait for the inspiration to hit.
I got a letter a few days ago from a man I used to know. He said he had been thinking about me and running over what-if’s in his head. Hadn’t expected to be missing me as much as he did. Realized I meant more to him that he knew.
I don’t know what response someone writing these letters expects. A bold declaration of similar feelings? A missive telling him to wait for the next flight home, cause I’d be on it? “Just let me pack my bags and dispose of this pesky relationship I’ve lived and loved for the past four years and I’m yours baby.”
I have no patience for these things anymore. You live your life once. There are 24 hours in a day and a million moments in each to make a move, there’s no excuse for not taking a chance on something you truly want. If you’ve lost that chance, then you’ve lost it. Circumstances change, you can’t continuously live your life as if the chance you didn’t take so many years ago is still open to you.
Doors close darlin, and its been so long since this particular one was open that I don’t even know what to make of this nonsense. I respond in kind. Write pedantically about how much snow we’ve had, how my job is going.
Today there was a wolf loping alongside the road outside my window. He runs this route every day in silence and is usually completely unobtrusive. Today however, as a rusted tan pickup passed, he lunged into the middle of the road, stopping it in its tracks. He bared his teeth and started barking furiously, circling around to the drivers side and jumping up, pawing at the window. The driver honked a few times in an effort to scare it away, then carefully wove around him and continued on his way, as did the wolf after staring after the receding truck for a few moments.
The moral: Sometimes events are meaningless and that’s alright.
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