Wednesday, March 9, 2011

consumed.

"...on that morning, the sun rose and bloomed like blood in a glass syringe." (76) from the toughest indian in the world by sherman alexie.

sometimes i feel like it's that morning. when i'm consumed and my mind tumbles about with anxiety. i often stop myself and intentionally ask, "how did i get to this place?" and i trace back how each thought led to the next. how each step got me here and how each finger tip, knowingly, went there.

what would life be like without my questions? with an authentic nonchalant-attitude? what would it be like if i really didn't care?

even the above questions get me nowhere.

in the mean time, i will calm my head and my heart by listening to the head and the heart's song lost in my mind. how appropriate, cait.

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