there

a friend may be slowly dying. and by “slowly,” i mean more quickly than the dying that begins when we were born. it’s pretty devastating to see it happen and to not be able to do anything about it. it’s sad that i can’t transcend my sadness to truly be there to do something.

i visited her in the hospital the other night. she was there and not there at the same time, but i couldn’t tell where she was and when. even when she was there, i could not find her. maybe my sadness was creating a wall. a wall that i could not penetrate. maybe i was more there for her than i thought. it’s impossible to tell.

i am counting on seeing her again.

i don’t want to say goodbye.

and i don’t want to arrive too late.

since seeing her, my sadness has become this weight i carry around with me. i don’t understand why it feels so depleting. why i am walking around in a daze. a dulled dulling daze. to quote dylan again, “it doesn’t matter where i go anymore, i just go.”

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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