Bookmark #720

Lost all the joy I had on me and did not realise it. It fell right out of my pocket like how when you’re taking something out of it, and something else crawls out, but you never realise it. I reckon it was something like that. It’s a good thing then that you can make more of it, or find it lying where other people left it, or find it in some inconspicuous spot on an old street you remember like the back of your hand, which you flip through as if it were a journal you found in the attic or a trunk. “It truly was a different time,” you tell yourself as you see a spectre of the original thing. Memory is a fickle thing—it makes and breaks a moment all on its own. Today, I found my bearings and my general disposition on the hanger behind the door. Dusty as it was, I wore it when I left to meet a friend at the bistro in the evening.

Made the impossible demand that everyone understand every ounce of myself at all times. It’s a tall order, and even if there were a person like this, I am not sure I would want them to perceive every corner as it seems. I believe this is the perpetual state of inconsistency I have called home for many years now. All people are inconsistent, of course. It is the mark of a liar—a constant state of being. I am only able to call my bluff when I see it. Then, I own it like a scar. If it is there, you cannot do much about it. So, the only thing you can do is own it. Perhaps, this consistent brokenness of my narrative of myself is, in itself, a blessing. It keeps these vignettes fresh. There is no plot to this absurd life, and as I have admitted before, I am okay with any ending. But even then, even with all these things in place, a reader may need some sense of conflict. Well, here it is, in all its glory: I was lost for a little while, and now I am found, and I will be lost again.

Oh, what reader, you ask? I wonder, too. I wonder about that all the time. Maybe, some things are still being written. It is much, much earlier than I like to admit. We’re only at the first third, by all estimates.

// if you want to support this walk to nowhere, you can pitch in here