I ask myself
Do I really want to get this ball rolling?
Then I sit and stare at the wall.
I’ve been known to stare at the wall for days. No joke. I won’t even change my clothes. There’s no mirror to show me who I am. There is nothing. There’s just me, the ball and these walls.
It’s just so much to ask.
Maybe I should look in the mirror.
That fucking ball. Makes me tired just knowing it’s there.
How did I become this person. I suppose there’s no self, whatever they say – why not? I’m willing to give believing it a shot. It hasn’t worked yet. I really believe that I’m nobody, which keeps the ball asking…”move me, won’t you move me?”
God, daily, it’s all just too much. Nothing doing something – SOMEHOW. ALL THE TIME.
I have two really stupid dogs I’m supposed to love. I can take cute pictures of them – I can edit. But it’s just me showing you what I want you to see.
The truth is, they fight over the same worn out pink bunny all day, every day. They bark like idiots. And they beg for food that they know they’re not going to get. They both have their balls that they covet but are too dumb to play a game of fetch with. It’s painful. They clutch these little rubber balls in their mouths and sit there fixated- staring at each other’s ball for hours. They won’t exercise. One time I drug them around by their leashes with my electric bike. Omg. That was bad.
Then there’s Jingle Bells who sits in the tower watching it all – It’s rare that my cat gives a fuck – but when she does, those shadows better watch out.
And this is it for me. And I shut them out. And when I’m supposed to be meditating, I start writing with no purpose in sight.
Does God really have a “plan” for me?
It’s hard to believe, but like I said, I’m willing to give it a shot.
But my mind. And the ball. And the walls that I watch like they’ll move if I’m still – are REALLY in my F’ing way.