A lovely fall day. Sunday, always Sunday. The only day I can manage to have the apartment to myself. My roommates are all out in the world, being active, being social. I, however, am sitting with a cup of coffee that I keep topping off and a bowl of cantaloupe chunks that I'm slowly picking at. So I need this alone time, I don't mind that I'm only experiencing the breeze through an open window.
This weather is very much reminding me of Portland, that life I had for a few months a couple of years ago. Two years have passed since then. That feels totally unbelievable. Why does fall always feel so, I don't know, sad? The winding down, I guess. The old memories tucked away in my insides of starting school again. Suddenly the city feels smaller, closed in around me somehow, though nothing has changed except the month. I feel anxious, too, that all of the other things I could be doing with my life are out there, flying by, only I'm not fast enough to grab them.
Listening to the same songs over and over again. The story of my life. Conversations being repeated for the probably 80th time, then specters in my dreams. Self-defeating thoughts, and then a new week starts, hopefully this one will blot out my weekend and propel me forward. For once and for all, out of the nonsense I submit to willingly and continually. Someday I will grow out of all of this. I should get a dog, so I can wake up early and focus on something other than my own, mid-20s-but-somehow-very-adolescent nonsense. Maybe a happy, Phineas Gage-esque accident. maybe a railroad spike through some personality-producing piece of my brain meat. And then everything will change in one quick instant, and I could be someone new.
