What's that feeling when you are so drained from within that breathing is just as tiring as not breathing? Something similar to dejection. Ah, that's it. Heartsick. Came to mind because I feel the drain happening from there. It's like trying to draw breath from a deep, deep pit and your lungs never really fill 'cause there's just too much darkness weighing down the air.
Where are the fragmented thoughts which used to spew from the tips of my fingers; the result of fragmented periods of existence? I feel them returning, as a shadow takes its turn from sunbeam at nightfall. I've been happy, last week. The kind of happy that people ordinarily don't think about, but which I wonder at.
So I'm back here once more.
Why the chosen post title? I thought it'd be fun to have a turn behind the wheel of a manual this evening. Hadn't touched one since passing the driving test, more than a year ago.
This was a jeep so square and masculine it seemed so foreign. Taut, black leather seats and a wide glass panel to see the road through, with funny little wipers I'd like to fix onto my umbrella. And doors which are pushed open by button, and slam shut of their own accord, so don't leave ur leg dangling out the chassis - or else.
Well, it was nearly as bad as learning from scratch. By the time I got into my own car, it felt like a welcome home. Sank into the perfectly moulded seat. Shut the door myself. Locked, handbraked down and changed gear. It felt like a toy car now. The comparison could be of one between beef jerky and putty. Turned the steering wheel - too hard - and took a few minutes to reaccustom to my ultra-sensitive brake. My head started spinning and I got onto the highway.
It's not about the driving episode. There were other things. It's about how nothing seems to progress though you seem to be trying so hard.
I came home and cried and tried to dance the tears away.
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