Impending Stagnation

I can smell it in the air and feel it every time I get out of bed in the morning. Not when I wake up, it should be noted. Shaking off the lingering transience of dreams leaves me feeling like I just left a place I would have liked to stay in a little longer. Perhaps it's just because I don't get enough sleep. I'm inclined to think that I'm awake too long. There is a strange, obscure partition that separates our reality from our dreams and occasionally these defined regions of existence comingle and intersect. Recently I've tried my hardest to work and excel in my reality so that my dreams are tinged with the sadness of what could have been. More recently I've found myself slowly losing the fight against indifference. The outcome is inevitable. There will come a time when I no longer judge my potential worth as an individual in a degree violent enough to warrant my continued efforts. At this point I see it more as a race than anything else. What will happen first? Will I stop trying? Or will I be on the receiving end of a drastic change of scenery? I truly need a change of scenery. I find it harder everyday to cope with the way my house contains no right-angles. Or how when I walk outside in the morning with my dog, my eyes still blurry from sleep, my hand slams into the door. I fear that I am violating the most fundamental of rules of human conflict, don't run from the problem, deal with it. Unfortunately I don't believe that this is a problem that can be fought. The slow degeneration of my place in this town, crowned with the residual indifference I feel every time I read the local news can only indicate one thing: I need to find myself in a way that escapes the reach of indie songs, or slow and reliable mantras, or engulfing myself in work. I need to feel the same sort of way I felt while I was in Biloxi, doing something that anyone could do and reveling in the feeling of oneness with myself.


It all sounds horribly contrived, but I assure you there are few things more genuine.