prying open my eyes, I turn and take in the warm stare of the sunbeams coiling through the trail of the smoking incense stick and the holes in my ratty curtains.
This is not happiness, but for a moment, I might mistake it as such. I guess maybe it just doesn’t really matter. I feel this and that from day to day, and it doesn’t seem to help for me to figure out what this and that are. Thinking about things like that pretty much just makes me forget things. It makes me forget things like how I have lived my life to get where I am now and how I might continue to live my life to stay where I am… or maybe to continue on the path I’ve been going on. I guess staying in one spot is not much different from continuing on one path without question… or even from continuing down one path with lots of unanswered questions.
I am here, though. Right?
