Inertia

I don’t know how to sit still for long.

I like to flee when it gets unbearable.

I’m not ready to process anything because it feels like nothing matters except how I feel and I can’t remember if I know how to feel or if that is in fact, feeling.

Once I was sitting under a Linden tree in the 8th Arrondisement. I felt like I had just woken up from something and I didn’t know how I got there. I imagine that’s how Rip Van Winkle felt when he woke up after being asleep for 100 years, and I’m that old woman who recognizes him as he comes back into the village. Only I’m both people, the one waking up and the one recognizing herself.

But can you just wake up one day and remember the things you forgot? Or the things you used to feel?

Do those memories mean anything? Are they a hail from the Universe to wake the fuck up and feel, or just get to off that bench and walk, anywhere.

Maybe it’s nothing more than what it is — a memory, now ready to be remembered and felt. Into the machine and ready for the activation code.

It feels more like a Loki-like prank designed to make waste your energy and derail you from the truth.