Shadow boxing

Long time no post. Yeah, I tend to get into these funks where I just don’t talk or type or do anything  in the means of communication.  I just got back from yet another doctor’s appointment and I took my sweet time driving home.  I’ve been sitting back in the corner of my couch staring out of my window at stars that I can’t see and a world that I feel detached from.  I purchased a pack of cigarettes my first pack since I quit over almost three months ago. I didn’t intend to smoke the cigarettes as much as light them and watch them burn.

Something about the comforting dancing smoke in the air became comforting to me. I twisted it in my fingers lightly as the sunset over oblong clouds. I realized that I was truly alone in the universe. I’m not at the moment going to disclose what has happened over the last few weeks but it’s been enough where I have gone back to hiding to the corner of my couch.  My lap top had been untouched for days and my art had been collecting dust. Maybe because everything I saw in my writing, my photography, and even my painting- seemed to be shitty. I stare at the pieces for days at a time and all I see was shit.

As for my writing, well, even though I’ve recovered all that I thought was lost I can’t but to feel as if those pieces are slipping away. My life’s calling or so I thought seems like an unreachable dream.  If I actually had writer’s support or even a writer’s group maybe there was a way that I could keep my neurotic tendencies in check.

Artistically, I feel as if I am shadow boxing myself. Trying to move faster and become quicker than my normal self. That in itself is ironic due to the fact that considering I threw out my back and I can’t get back into my kick boxing regimen until the doctor clears me to go. I was excited to start jogging and kick boxing again until a subtle crunch in my back rendered me as helpless as a worm on the sidewalk after the rain. Even in this Quasimodo stance I tried to think of all the people I could call in case of an emergency and I began to laugh. MY laugh quickly squelched by the appearance of a doctor who asked me if there was anyone I could call and I laughed at him as if it were a joke. And then when I was in my car thinking about the prior appointment and I shook my head. I wanted to cry, yet I couldn’t. I’m finding myself unable to cry.

I’m shadow boxing my art

I’m shadow boxing my emotions

I’m shadow boxing well me.

I wonder how quickly I can keep moving before my shadow stops and start to shake its head at me. Until then, I’m going to keep trying to move one step ahead of the shadow inside.