monochromatic

I don't feel up or down. The world has no color. Food has no taste. Nothing is engaging. I live in a basement. I work as a bureaucrat. The new york time lets me read 20 articles a month. I would choose wisely, if only I cared enough about the world to make that much effort.

To be concise, something in this paradigm needs to shift. I applied to schools. It was an earnest effort, one that was the result of many painstaking years of wonder- who am I? And then on the cusp of answering that question, and deciding a next step, my life changed quite drastically. Now, I am still at the precipice of this change, but I'm alone and without confidence in it, yet again, because the world has become monochromatic to me. My senses are dulled. There is no ounce of compassion left in me, to dedicate myself to finding beauty in it, or making beauty in it. I'd rather just lay here. Today I'll just lay here. And look at the blue walls. Grateful that at least they're not white.

I guess I'll start there, then--feeling grateful for blue walls. I'll even give the blue a special name- robins egg. There, that is a little bit more nuanced view of the world, isn't it? And from this, maybe I'll find my compassion. And maybe I'll begin to feel, again, as though I live on this earth.