What hurts the most?
Being a fish with a hook in its mouth, slowly reeled in.
Being able to feel your beard grow.
The beating of your heart, the ticking of a clock.
Being too tired to sleep.
Grinding your teeth.
Fidgeting.
Pacing
Thinking the word 'ennui' is pretentious.
Feeling hungry (feeling fat).
Watching water go down the drain.
Being done with all your chores.
Being too nervous to read,
too temperate to drink
(too poor anyway)
and too comfortable to be sad about anything
in particular...
1 comment:
I like this. To be too comfortable to be sad about anything in particular (while nonetheless sad) is a terrible thing, perhaps the goal is to be happy, but not about anything in particular?
Not of course, to say we shouldn't be happy about particulars. But, is that the inscrutable element of the most sublime sort of joy, as the joy of being? That there is no reason?
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