Burn Out

I went to catch the bus today, rain randomly pelting my head and coat, me dodging umbrellas, and I stood there writing entries to a blog post in my head, repeating over and over:

This is me

I don’t remember what I was going to say because as many times as I repeated it then, I stopped by a friend’s house before coming home, then played yahtzee and finished rewatching The Big Lebowski, and now I got this weird feeling in me and I thought maybe I’d write my post after all, but I don’t actually have anything to say.

I get really tired sometimes, exhausted, used up, burned out, whatever, and at these times I am more likely to embrace the absurdity of everything. Well, maybe not embrace so much as accept quietly. When I’m doing really well I embrace absurdity at times, blowing bubbles, flying kites, doing whatever I feel, though this is usually more forgetting than embracing. When I’m depressed, I accept nothing and embrace less, instead, wallowing wallowing wallowing, all that wallowing I’m moving away from.

But then there’s the tired. The tired makes me quiet, elusive. I stare and take in. I weigh. I wonder about what I think. I lose track of caring. I take in. It’s my watching time. I watch people and wonder about their lives. Where they go, what they do, who they see, how they interact, who they are, what they want. All of these things I roll around in my head, watching.

My introspection about myself runs out. I start to stop caring if I’m right or wrong. And I know it’s not good because I’ll care again in a few hours or days, but for now, I am content to lay back and let others carry the load. If they don’t want it, it can lay there for now. I’m not picking it up.