I can’t seem to get going, to get out of this little box that contains and constricts me. I try rousing myself out of ennui. Swimming. Piano practice. Napping. Eating. Attempting to write. I can’t even come up with a good text. Everything is so bottled up. I know that only I can uplift myself out of this ennui. But I am doing a terrible job of it. It’s a bit scary. Unsettling. But I feel settled into it. So unsettling has become settling. And that is the scariest thing of all.

The world outside my box feels impossible to reach. This can’t stay this way, can it? It can’t. Something has to shift. But I need help. I can’t do it on my own. I feel so powerless and … unsettled.

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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