Every so often I will look down at my body
and wonder who it belongs
to. Like, I'll be
sitting at my computer, and I look at the screen
and then I look down. My hands are placed neat
on the keyboard, not moving. I can almost not
feel them. My head starts to feel strange
Not light, necessarily, but disattached. Disengaged.
. I am positive that those hands down there
on the keyboard don't belong to my body. How can I
the feeling? I can almost see the whole body over
there on the swivel chair, and it just doesn't seem
like mine. Whose body is sitting there? Who is
living my life while I am sitting here in their
body for them? Who is out doing all the things
I want to do, and LIVING while I am sitting here
filling in their spot, and dying?
That's what I wonder
about sometimes. Which
ended up with my life. I hope she's enjoying her
time in Italy. I hope she gets to see Venice
and go sky diving and climb Mt. Everest
She mustn't forget to buy that $700 camera, and
use it to take picture
s of the Alps. I wonder
what she's enjoying most in Greece
How many languages she can
speak by now? I hope
she gets to the Louvre,
Madame Toussad's, and Ayers Rock. And she'd better
she has, because
she could have gotten worse: she could have
landed the one i'm living for her
Let me add to this, after having read what
What is stopping me from doing these things?
What is holding me back from locating the usurper
of my dreams and living them myself?
So it's friends, or family. So there are practical considerations. But here I am, and there are strange hands in front of me on the keyboard. I'm not
sure that my awareness of detatchment is a bad thing.
Because maybe this time I'll be spurred into action,
Maybe this time I will take hold of my future and
try to shape it my way.