"The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible." -Vladimir Nobokov

Saturday, October 4, 2014

Letters to October #3

 Still life from the front desk of the writing center

Dear October,
       It's almost midnight, so once again my letter will arrive a few minutes late. I've been finding it more difficult to reflect these past couple days. Each day is impossible to categorize, swinging between glorious highs where I'm surrounded by friends, or my writing is going really well, and pockets of boredom or stress about the upcoming week. Overall, I can't shake the feeling that I'm being swept up in some kind of slow-burning change. I can feel something shifting, and I don't know if it's me or my environment. Could it be both? I'm doing my best to steer it in the direction I want it to go, but there are times when it feels like I'm trying to catch up to my own life.

You always hear people talk about living in the moment, but what they don't tell you is that when you let go of the future, you let go of your last road map. That's not to say you've lost the ability to navigate. There are still signs to go by, and you can figure out where you are from the sun and the stars, but suddenly everything is more instinctual, more uncertain. Right now, I'm clinging to a direction and hoping it will take me to where I need to go. Let's hope I end up somewhere new.


Song of the Day: Everything Moves by Bronze Radio Return

No comments:

Post a Comment