It's 1 am. I am really tired, I have been feeling despondent all day, now here I am, pondering about life (drawn out), my career (bleak), contentment (impossible). Closure for this episode eludes me; I cannot move on. Trying to find the gap in the clouds. The shaft of light to burn them away.
Meanwhile, a song is telling me,
Hold it in
Oh let's go dancing
I do believe we're only passing through.
(His lyrics are incomprehensible. They are burdened with meaning and pain, folded in on themselves to conceal the bald, stark wounds that cannot be faced without metaphor. Then again, is this relatedness or a Rorschach test of my sentiments? Probably the Rorschach. Who knows what he means. The only meaning I know is mine.)
Maybe that is it. Situations, places, people, we're only passing through. Maybe there is no epiphany just out of reach past the horizon of clouds. Maybe I should give up trying to verbalize the mess of thoughts, stop trying to give them form, stop trying to tame them. They are there, they will always return, just let them be, just hold them in.
And go dance.