Back to the drawing board? Not really. Everything seems
pretty; different pretty. A different drawing board. My board has many
colours now—there's a bright yellow here, and an orange there. It's got hits of
blues and specks of grey. It's a fresh coat. It's still drying. Some
colours are running. And mixing. I only want to watch. This is just the
first coat.
It's not easy, I think to myself sometimes. A moment after I
realise, it couldn't be easier than this. My mind has a mind of its
own. My thoughts are running everywhere. In the past and sometimes in
the near future. During blank moments of thoughtlessness, it slips back
to the past. The one I recently left behind. The one that I will NEVER
leave behind, I tell myself.
My present has never been so prominent. It's got multiple
stories. Each moment is new.
I am me but I am not the same.
Oh look. A new coat. A fresh one.
I am dripping.
