Bookmark #878

I have learned there are certain peculiarities in the way I live myself, in the way I carry myself through my days, and it is about time I think of trying to put them down. Of course, I will fail at this somewhat vain task since I can, not in my own voice, capture the absurdity of my decisions, but that there is an absurdity is true because I can often see it on the faces of people—those I know and strangers alike. But what I have learned about myself is that there are two parts to it all. The first is an obsession to be completely, absolutely and entirely ready. The second is a supreme resistance to the inner friction of waiting. These two traits make up about a third of my entire personality, and they are unequivocally responsible for everything I do, big and small.

That it takes me two days to build a semblance of a life, all with a routine and music to go along with it, is but a tiny yet significant example of this nature. That I obsess over being in a position to pay what price it costs, that it may be a little obsession over always being capable (barring a few which we do not talk about), and that by the last hour of the second day, I have already taken enough walks in the unfamiliar neighbourhood to not use that adjective anymore, that I know by midnight on the third day where I will go for coffee, what streets will I frequent, and what my day would look like before I shut my eyes to wake up into a routine I do not remember building is but this nature in all its glory—that I am ready for everything, and that nothing holds me back when I have my eyes set.

This is not gloating by any means; this is but a description of it all; it is but an admittance that I see the eyes that look at me and think, “Where is the hesitation?”

What hesitation? It is all a farce, anyway. We always know what we want. The bottom line is being ready for it, prepared for everything that has the capacity to hold us back; what else is there? What use is even waiting if time continues to tick? Time ran out. It ran out before we made a wish. We are all running late. Get up; we might as well pick up the slack; we might as well still make it.

There is nothing more urgent than this.