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nnyLife is like one of those playground roundabouts, back before they upped the friction in pursuit of fewer flying children. Things are moving faster and faster and it's exhilarating and manic and brilliant until you lose track of one of the things you're holding.
(Why are you holding things on a roundabout? Because you're a grown up now, and that's what grown ups are for).
Notice that one thing is slipping leads to a reflexive tightening of the grip, which inevitably leads to a chain reaction of slippage until you're watching everything shoot off into the distance and tidying your room mechanically every weekend because it's the only thing that gives the vague impression of control.
I'm not there yet but I'm feeling it start to go, and all I seem to be doing these days is making lists of all the things I must do and change and fix about myself.
Life is like one of those playground roundabouts because there's a fuck of a lot of effort for no real progress at all.
(Why are you holding things on a roundabout? Because you're a grown up now, and that's what grown ups are for).
Notice that one thing is slipping leads to a reflexive tightening of the grip, which inevitably leads to a chain reaction of slippage until you're watching everything shoot off into the distance and tidying your room mechanically every weekend because it's the only thing that gives the vague impression of control.
I'm not there yet but I'm feeling it start to go, and all I seem to be doing these days is making lists of all the things I must do and change and fix about myself.
Life is like one of those playground roundabouts because there's a fuck of a lot of effort for no real progress at all.
