This is Why

“This is why”. A small comment at the end of a long post, my last post. A tiny, inconsequential thing. It started as a whispered shiver just above my toes and traveled like growing icicles up my legs, circling my spine, weighing down my arms, and traveling over my brain like microscopic, cascading, frozen dominoes, neurons shutting down with each miniature collapse. Almost 2 months of not posting, of not finding anything interesting enough to post about, and “this is why” gets me. “This is why”. It resonates, but in a cold, indifferent way. “This is why”. Anyone who knows me will be sure that, now, finally, I have gone off the deep end. What am I talking about? And yet, and yet, there’s something inside of “this is why” that is so expansive and heavy, something just out of my reach... “This is why”. It calls me, it’s right there and not there. Does anybody get this? Obviously, if you do, you don’t have the words either, it’s a knowing, and yet not knowing anything. It slipped in on a knife’s edge and I want it to stay and replicate, a seed so foreign and so familiar, leaving the sliver of a hope that I will know something someday. Metaphysical crap? Maybe. Sure. But it got inside me. Read more