apathy threatens to seep through the forefront of your mind, bitter and black like unsweetened coffee scalding one's throat (whether you like it--or not.)
something that has happened so many times---why should you care anymore?
a repitition is always assured and scheduled in the future like a dreaded doctor's appointment
something that has become normal
1. spiritual or mental sloth; apathy
you just don't want to care anymore.
it hurts too much to be disappointed every time, you just can't muster enough energy to waste it, precious reserves conserved for more practical matters.
(too tired from countless refrains of the same tune)
. .
2. an oppressive stillness of the air.
thick, heavy, suffocating pressing on one's lungs as if one were sitting atop one's chest, slowing the airflow
sluggishness, lethargy
an aching sense of weariness
that will not go away, lingering like a shadow, only a step behind your echoing footfalls.
it clings to your very form like a heavy, leaden chains, clinking and clank-clanking a haunting cacophony, that only you can hear.
3. a feeling of listlessness and dissatisfaction arising from a lack of occupation or excitement.
boredom.
tedium.
as the world's doldrums cycle once again, and wishing for just a pinch of chaos to shift the tides, spice things up like a tiny addition of paprika in a simplistic recipe.
listless. empty.
hollow.
we do as much as we can to fill that gaping hole in our hearts, whatever may fill it--that hunger, that thirst--for something more, something beyond the reality that grounds us.
it's like eating clouds, you eat and eat but it doesn't fill you so you keep on starving.
4. world pain. melancholy that sustains us through the days. world weary. the state of depression felt when the world doesn't reflect what you think it should be.
compared to our ideals and foolish hopes and dreams and boundless optimism they will never to compare to the pessimistic world.
sometimes good shines like light through a boarded-up attic illuminated dust-coated shelves abandoned by their owners in the dim dark. (it's a lot better than you think.)
sometimes there is nothing. you cannot feel, you cannot see breathe think imagine dream whisper talk smell hear taste
only a void of emptiness and nothingnothingnothing and it drives you mad
you forget what breathing feels like
(whether you open your eyes or close them they see the same nothing)
and you suffocate in the darkness, drowning in the deluge, yes, nothing to call you home
(but sometimes it's even worse.)
5. a dull ache of melancholy of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a vague restlessness, yearning. dismal, dreary lovesickness, in some cases, or perhaps nostalgia of times long lost. a sick pining. a feeling of anguish often without any specific cause.
sometimes you long for something more. something better. you're willing to change but then you do the same thing all over again, a vicious cycle.
what is it that you long for?
for times long lost in ages past or a better future, a better tomorrow?
a strange sort of melancholy that envelops you for no reason that you discern, perhaps a reason you know in your heart but not on your mind, not on your tongue, where the bitterness like herbs lingers, ashen.
what is it that you desire?
restless, you shift from one foot to the other and look to the horizon as if searching for an answer.
6. liberosis (dictionary of obscure sorrows)
n. the desire to care less about things—to loosen your grip on your life, to stop glancing behind you every few steps, afraid that someone will snatch it from you before you reach the end zone—rather to hold your life loosely and playfully, like a volleyball, keeping it in the air, with only quick fleeting interventions, bouncing freely in the hands of trusted friends, always in play.
you just wish you were that more carefree.
it hurts too much to care anymore so you don't. you don't.
so you turn your face to the light and let the shadows fall behind you and you don't look back to see if they're following. oh, yes, they are, lying in wait for any sign of weakness but you don't falter. you don't linger.
no, you hold your head high and walk forwards, footsteps lighter than they've ever been before.
turn your eyes to the sun,
for the moon has yet to rise.
YOU ARE READING
a litany of ruminations
Puisi{poetry collection} s c a t t e r e d dreams and drifting thoughts, oh, not everything is what it seems... (not necessarily from my own thoughts)
