It never truly feels like I’m at where I’m at. I am not legitimately in my proper place ever — in time or space –where ever I find myself at (the workplace, for example … MOSTLY… but… also: any place or time where people gather together). It just doesn’t feel real or official until afterwards. Not until after I have moved on — not until after a layer of time has been shoveled over the grave of that time and place – not until then does it seem real to me. I was there. I earned my place there or I didn’t. I didn’t deserve the misery of that place – or I did. I was there, and I was there a while. So I WAS INDEED THERE. Sometimes though: even if I was there I wasn’t there …even if it’s been proven to my inner space/time skeptic: even if I been there, I shouldn’t have been there. (But that’s different.) With all of this insomnia thinking, this one main thing that I am about to mention, the following point I’d like to make about all of this, I wish I could bring the most intense emphasis to this next point, I wish I could scream it through the worlds’s most powerful bullhorn: who cares.
None of these times or places where I’ve been were all that impressive. That’s the thing. I’m trippin over some truly insignificant stuff. These thoughts aren’t even worth thinking. They’re certainly not worth writing down and reading. But here we are…look at us.