I haven't written in 10 years or more. My mind is sending signals through my nerves to my fingers to search out the letters. The self that I feel is a higher form is forcing my mind to pressure my fingers to type well, to type properly. I never(more) learned to touch type, so I'm taking it slow. My piano player shaped hands and fingers are bumbling along with the help of my determined mind. There is a gap between today and years ago when I was compelled to write. The gap is a chasm that is unnervingly large. I feel the younger version of me on the other side like a disjointed picture-feeling. He can't see me from his side as I will myself to return again and again to the home keys. My right hand is having more trouble than the left. It searches, aimlessly, for the key to finish the sentence. I search for the key in my mind to open the door to passion. I stumble again and again, upstairs in my head and downstairs at the keyboard. I have imagined a chasm of years, unbridgeable. I have imagined a door, locked. I pause typing to think. I... I imagine that if I turn away from the endless pit of the past, and face the locked door of passion in front of me now... Well, if I keep touch typing until the hands are comfortable, the keystrokes true, that I will have a way to banish 10 years of ennui. The key to the lock on the door may be close. It's just lost for now. The valuable lost things usually turn up when you clean your house, don;t they? (less)
There's many days that pass by and i'm ennui all the time, but then again depression does that .
i've lost motivation to keep going, it's as if im losing who i trully am on inside, its begining to be harder to smile, let alone get out of be(more)d in the mornings.
i ask myself "what has become of me?"(less)
He painted his world in blacks and whites like he was born in grayscale, his sky the colour of the moon on bright nights, his oceans dusted in charcoal. A juxtaposition of intricacy and simplicity, every line drawn in perfect strokes, every detail painstakingly traced, his work dripped tears(more) down pastel faces, elicited deafening silences and voiceless applauses that reminded him of stormy skies, rumbling in deep voices, the taste of catharsis on his tongue.
But his sun did not cloak him in warmth, his clouds did not bring him joy, and the sea breeze that blew against his salted skin felt like shadows sliding past his fading soul. No matter how hard he tried, he could not mask the fatigue that leaked out between his paint coated hands, too accustomed to illusion to recognize reality.
He wondered when the weariness had began to sink in, lead filling the crevices of his bone marrow, darker than the ocean floor. Life is the greatest struggle, and apathy the greatest sin, but he watched as pewter entered his spectrum, remained silent when it swept through the memories of chromaticity and replaced it with shades, the same shades that he drowned in now.
(The colour of midnight oil, it’s too late to turn back.)(less)
Ennui. What a strange word. I had to look it up. It's rather fun to say and to think about.
If you have a mind like mine, and you look at it too quickly, it says "bunny." I don't even know how that happens, to be honest. "Utter(more) weariness" is not a synonym for bunny.
I like bunnies. Do bunnies become utterly weary? Maybe they get tired of being bunnies. "I want to be something more!" screams a young rabbit.
"Shut up and eat your carrots, dear," says its mother.
I'm not sure where my train of thought is taking me at the moment. I'm pretty sure that said train has derailed. Maybe it did that years ago. What if a rabbit was on a train? Why would a rabbit be on a train? Would it be utterly weary of being on said train? Why did the chicken cross the road?
Apparently "ennui' is a French word. A friend of mine has been bugging me to learn French for months. How is ennui even pronounced? In my head it's "ehn-nyew-wee" but apparently it's "ahn-wee." Don't let the ehnnyewwee take hold in your mind! It's ahnwee! Ahnwee!!!!!
I don't even know what I'm writing about anymore.
Do rabbits have trains of thoughts? Do they have trains on a wedding gown? Oh a rabbit is getting married oh just look at its little dress aww isn't that just so cute it's got a gorgeous train look at the widdle baby bunnies holding the train awwww. There's actually a really adorable mental picture in my mind at the moment.
Ennui. Alumni? Eyes. Eyes are the windows to the soul. Or are they the doors?
Do the rabbits glow in the dark? If they don't glow I want a refund. I'm out of words.(less)