They say when you stop looking is when things tend to find you. Well I don't think I've ever started looking so shouldn't it have been found all along?
Why is it that I constantly feel so unwell, so misput, like when you try to make two pieces of a puzzle almost fit but not quite but you just want to get the damn puzzle finished so you make them fit together, and as a result the puzzles distorted but you're tired and don't care anymore so you go to bed and leave it as is. That's how I feel constantly. Left as is. Not tied together in a bow, but good enough to go to sleep without looking back.
And then sometimes I feel as though I am being run over by a truck. Like I am still that as is puzzle on your coffee table, but now there is a small child or someone playing trucks driving over the pieces. The as is pieces. Crushing. Cramming. Bursting. Pushing the pieces that don't fit together even closer to one another. Pushing the pieces that are right farther away from one another. The gap widens, the void deepens. Like the wheels of the toy truck are talking to me. "Why haven't you found it yet? Why won't it find you? It doesn't want to find you. You're not meant to be found." But what are we if we're not found? Can we find ourselves? I would like to think so but I'm not quite sure.
The truck knocks a corner piece off the table on to the floor, it stays there.
Ramblings of a twenty-something addicted to pop culture.
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