Clock’s a-ticking, things are changing, and people are moving. And yet here I am still. Still watching. And still being. Not asking as many questions as I used to, though. Maybe I think I’ve found enough answers. Maybe nothing’s that interesting anymore. Who knows? I do know that my world is somewhat more silent than it usually was, which in itself is not always a bad thing. Though sometimes I miss the blur of ricocheting logic and kaleidoscopic emotions, there’s a definite calm and contentment in the abyss of nothingness.
What more is there to ask for? What more is there to chase? Maybe happiness isn’t getting what you want but accepting what you get. I can’t be one of you who live for something. I just be. Taking each day, each hour, each minute as it comes. Observing as the river rushes by, crashes into a waterfall, runs to the open sea. And yet here I am still. Watching you. And being me.
psychobabbles 