Spaces

Yet another research paper, yet another 3am post. I am not enjoying the pattern in these schedules.

I feel like I need to start drawing again. I need to return to my world of creation and shapes. Once, I was nearly to the edge. I was close. I was close enough that I could pear over the precipice and see the downward slope toward the grove of goals. They were right there.

Every now and then I need to remember that I am stretched thin. I am so used, so at ease to be thinking in multiple times, multiple places, and maneuver through the world on the fly. It is how I am. It is me. It is what I do.
But I am tired.

I am really, really tired.

I am in too many places. I am in too many times. I am not here. I am not when. I am not what.

There is no chance for a full revival. Only stim packs and the random chanced upon reminder. A fleeting shimmer. A green leaf amongst a sea of yellow.
Too many traps. Too many dwellings. Too many don't matter. Not enough matter.
Stop. Move. Flow. Settle. Be. Expand, but return home. Travel forth, but hold a spoonful of oil. Drink from the sea and wrap yourself in the lonely, fickle wind. Give it a friend for the moment. Show it softness in order to remember your own softness and grip. Breathe. Find your motion. Find your cycle.
Find your place.
Retract. Center. Find security, find safety. Find a hill to roll down. Find a tree to climb. Let its slow hands reach up and lift you in its concerned skyward embrace.
Make yellow dance against a backdrop of seafoam orbs and lavender oranges.
Touch colors, smell the sights, taste the music.
Remember.



**reboot.



grow.