There’s a fog out there. I can’t see for half a mile away. It’s a bit confusing and even threatening. Also quite typically referring to the state of my brain. It only reminds me too much of certain period when. I was ready to flee, the winter, these blues, and mostly myself, or my moody reflections. Although I didn’t see it then, I can see and remember things only too quite clearly now. And if I didn’t know better, I would escape again.
In my mind I envision myself in a car on a very long trip, off to Spain or somewhere where the Sun will lighten me up. Where I will have a job in a sleezy bar, as a waitress. And lie down on a beach for the rest of the day, not especially longing to get into action.
I have never experienced these Winter Blues so intense as these days. And Lord knows, I have to blame it on something, other than my frame of mind. It distracts me, I presume, to do come to the realization that I might just be an old chagrin, bitter, sad and ready to lash out at whatever bothers me the most. I feel like that old grumpy Gremlin, sitting in the darkest corner of that pub, drinking and smoking away time.
Of course, now that I write these lines down here, it becomes crystal clear just what bothers me the most. I do drink and smoke sometimes. I’m wasting my time, as if I’m brooding for the next big thing that might just be lurking around the corner. Except, I do not know yet, what the hell I’m waiting for.
As always, I anticipate too much. And I haven’t quite learnt to see things for what they are. There’s no such thing as wasting time. And whilst I’m at it, I should be enjoying every split second of that echo which happens when you pronounce time.
Maybe that is just what this fog is teaching me.