and the Inability to Focus

Ibland har jag kä nt att jag duger.

Whatever disease it was that manifested itself in my body these past days, it seems to be subsiding. I am merely left with scattered thoughts, an inability to focus and check off my to-do list. I suppose it could be worse.

I have seen many New York homes since I got here, and I am constantly amazed at the degree of decay in which people live. The sub-code heating systems, the layers of dust in the corners, the piles of messes that seem years in the making. How are people wading around in this refuse, day after day?, I've thought. It comes as no surprise, though, that now as I look around my room, I find countless scraps of paper, saved for no reason atop my dresser. I can never quite stretch out because the already limited floor space is cluttered with bags and Remains of the Day. I have fallen prey to the bug of the City; I suppose it is a telepathic current sent out by the cockroaches to make this world more liveable for them. Congratulations, you have succeeded.

But that is not what I wanted to say. I wanted to speak of love, of how distant and unattainable it is. My closest friend just handed over her entire heart, the Everything, on a platter, just to have it sent back. No thank you, not interested. After all that time and so much rose-colored Us-against-the-World Promise, to end up with No Thank You and the black hole that comes after. How is that allowed to happen? I wanted to speak of being called out on all my bullshit in the Park, being reminded that I was no different from those I objected against, that the fantasy world I paint would not be true, should the paint palette change, and how refreshing that was. I appreciated the candid honesty more than I knew how to convey.

All this I wanted to speak of, to not let the thoughts disappear before another dawn brought new smiles and erased the insight. But my limbs are so sore, and there is laundry yet to be folded. The words evaporate, with the dryer sheet fumes escaping along the brick wall into the night.