There is a sheath of lethargy pulling over the entire day. I have stared at the computer and the open Word Doc for an hour or so, all while a distant marching band tune filled my head. Not in a determined sort of way, but more in a vague manner – as if I am standing at the window of a tall building and far away I can see the marching band.
The pins on my soft-board, in all their annoyingly bright colours, have moved themselves around to form lines and circles to amuse me. Perhaps, I moved them myself but it’s hard to tell. It’s as though my hands belong to someone else and I am watching them move with the same intrigue as you’d bestow on a talking bird. The lists on the board are precise, all written out in my unwavering handwriting. I seem to have lost the motivation towards these tasks that I possibly felt when I made those lists. I now disregard their presence with great ease.
My phone rings several times. The sound is harsh and alien. I don’t answer it because that will require speaking with people and I can’t trust my foggy mind to formulate acceptable responses. I continue to stare at the computer and write disconnected lines – Green feet at the museum, Herring and canned juice.
I skip lunch and drink lots of water instead. It makes my stomach feel like it’s floating away, like a piece of shiny plastic caught in the waves. If I close my eyes, I am sure I’ll see the ocean and the gurgling sound it makes.
The day is dark now, but hardly in a frightening way. I am pleased with this place, where there isn’t too much light but there is lots of room to mentally stretch.
The pins on my soft-board, in all their annoyingly bright colours, have moved themselves around to form lines and circles to amuse me. Perhaps, I moved them myself but it’s hard to tell. It’s as though my hands belong to someone else and I am watching them move with the same intrigue as you’d bestow on a talking bird. The lists on the board are precise, all written out in my unwavering handwriting. I seem to have lost the motivation towards these tasks that I possibly felt when I made those lists. I now disregard their presence with great ease.
My phone rings several times. The sound is harsh and alien. I don’t answer it because that will require speaking with people and I can’t trust my foggy mind to formulate acceptable responses. I continue to stare at the computer and write disconnected lines – Green feet at the museum, Herring and canned juice.
I skip lunch and drink lots of water instead. It makes my stomach feel like it’s floating away, like a piece of shiny plastic caught in the waves. If I close my eyes, I am sure I’ll see the ocean and the gurgling sound it makes.
The day is dark now, but hardly in a frightening way. I am pleased with this place, where there isn’t too much light but there is lots of room to mentally stretch.
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