Shallow breathing in and out, chest constricting as I move through the motions.
Head: It’s that time of year again?
The more time that passes by, the more similarities I start to notice within myself.
Me: You know I’ve read stacks and stacks of books with characters who talk about moments of passing time feeling apathetic and moody, and I used to take it as creative license. An author musing to themselves on how they can illustrate the emotion of a character. How they can show us how this character interacts with the world.
Weighted chest, not too tight, but enough to feel the difference in the exhalations I make, in and out.
Head: It’s like a crackle at first, electric and small but it can turn and turn. It can grow, can’t it? Become something more?
Me: But it’s not just a book is it? I know this apathy I’ve known it for a long time now. It’s not easily described it’s felt and it sways and moves in slowed motion. It can start as a weight, it really depends on the day, but it’s always there moving in the shadows, not threatening but cautious and wary.
Can you feel the wind blow through time, day by day, if you listen you’ll notice it, softly at first but as time passes you start to see the signs?
Head: It isn’t fear, fear is loneliness, the unknown… silence.
Me: Sometimes it feels like being alone… but it’s almost worse, it’s deep and shallow at the same time. It’s like holding your breath, not knowing where to breach the surface, but it’s not panic, it’s not pain, it’s the line between peace and anger. It’s nothing. And that’s the worst part, nothing, empty. It comes and goes, seasons and weather, relationships and goals, it’s there.
Echoes of the familiar creeping at the edge, “Hello old friend is it time again?”
Head: Can you fight what you can’t feel?
Me: There is no fighting yourself? I can breathe and eat and live my life. I can choose to accomplish what I believe and live a life I choose to want. But fighting nothing is impossible.
It’s like smoke drifting in the wind. You inhale slowly but you aren’t quite sure how bad it is. It’s gentle with that hint of acrid nothingness on the tip of your tongue.
Head: So what then?
Me: Acceptance and reflection, this a space of nothing, but it is mine to understand. I do not fear myself. I fear not recognizing the way I exist. Time is one thing on my side and in this, I know how to remember. I know how to accept and I am learning how to reflect.
It’s moving towards the future, drifting in step with nothing, understanding yourself, because that’s what this is.
It’s you and yourself coexisting in the space.
You need to remember the space.
You need to accept the space.
You need to love yourself.