I don't mind any of it anymore.

Walking home from the train, the weather decided to turn against us. Well, the rest of us.

All of the sudden I wasn't angry anymore. And all of the sudden I didn't feel so guilty. Walking home slow in the downpour felt good, and I was going to take all the time in the world; Because that's all I've got.

It's hard to explain, so I'll do the best I can. Until you can experience it for yourself. And only then will know know how happy I was.

About half a block from my apartment, I realized that my father will never know what this feels like ever again. Rain. And that made me happy. Because I can still feel it. I can still open my palm and watch the little rain droplets splash around the wrinkles of my palm. I know it sounds cheesy, but if I wont, then who will?

Standing out in front of my apartment in the rain face upturned, made everyone stare. And I didn't mind that anymore. It probably didn't help that I had a huge smile on my face either.

I don't mind feeling angry.

And I don't mind feeling guilty.

I don't mind feeling any of it anymore.

For whatever reason the rain felt too good to get out of. When someone offered me their umbrella, it would make me annoyed that they chose to not feel it. I wanted to take off my sweater and my shoes and feel it all over. But I would probably get sent to central booking where ham sandwiches would await me. Instead, I took a lap around the block. And then another. And another. And another, until I was drenched.

It's kind of like the light bulb in your brain goes off, and all the sudden it all makes sense.

What all? I don't even know. But you just feel like you get it. All of it. And everything is finally fine, even if it isn't. This is what the buddhists must call nirvana. Or something close to it.

Even though I was completely soaked to the bone, I wanted to stay outside longer. But the grumbles from my stomach beckoned me away from the perfect wet weather.

Now I sit here typing this out to all of you soaking wet; in a state of which the rest of the world could do without.

And I'm way more than okay with that.

Do-Nothing

Doing nothing.

Thinking nothing.

Seeing nothing. 

This is how I've spent my last few months. Only it's more noticeable now that I don't have the heavy 'clack-clack' of the shutter of a camera as white noise. 

There is no more cancel out. Just cancelled. 

I  like it that way.

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Reaching for the bottoms of my pockets, I trudge along Clinton street, fearful of anyone who looks like they might want to speak to me. It's not as if I've suddenly grown afraid of them, just tired of them. 

An empty shell amongst emptier shells. Still reaching for the bottom of my never-ending pockets. I don't know what it I've been trying to grasp. Anything. All perceptions of reality have failed me, except for the lint.

Letting the fog from my empty skull clear, I realized I've trudged the 20 blocks back to the 6 train. Without even knowing it.  

---------------------------------

Sleeping has been a similar experience. 

The stomping upstairs continues; Only it belongs to someone else now. 

4am. Shuffling. Stomping. Pounding of a beat on my head. 

Counting backwards from 10.

Deep breaths. 

Pillow over my face. 

Finally, I notice it.

The sticky downpour outside will be the only way out. As if you'd ever think that the sound of pennies covered in maple syrup would ever help. 

After listening to them drool down the buildings and fall into the pit of garbage outside my window for what seems like an hour, Im finally able to drift off into another nightmare.