I seem to acquired a theme, as of late. My internal monologue keeps saying the same thing, which is "I don't know how to say--" I feel like my words are leaving me again, or maybe I was misjudging the extent to which they were ever back in the first place. They're adequate enough for simple tasks: what my day was like, what I'm working on. But when I ask more of them, they can't deliver. My mother. Riots in Oakland. And now, this strange feeling that I want to put to words, that I have been trying for days to put to words.
I think it's optimism.
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