The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

Bathetic

Why does it always have to be so complicated?

Somehow, it becomes about more than fireflies in the summer night, more than the soundless descent of fat, milky snowflakes. A flower blooms, and we miss it, only to notice it after the miracle happens, leaving us to wonder why it waits for silence to open. Why do the good things happen when we're nowhere near them?

A feeling is never just a feeling. It is the overflow of thoughts and perceptions inside the flesh. We see something, we take it in, and we leave the thinking for another time. The body, though, has other ideas. It knows what it sees and reacts in its own unique way. Logic does battle with biology, but biology always wins. It's the thing we can measure.

The life I want would be a quiet one, one which has little chance of having light shed upon it. There would be books and Sunday afternoon movies, and hot chocolate and croissants. There would be artful salads and fresh baked bread, and the smell of flowers on the bedclothes. There would be discussion and laughter and freedom from baseless tears. I would leave the house to go somewhere where things would feel like an extension of this life, rather than a departure from it, where there would be productivity and meaning, and limited discontent. There would be lyricism in the language, pens and heavy paper, and stamps. There would be heavy, warm arms from behind before the want of them occurs to me. There would be long walks along crackless sidewalks, and happy dogs prancing alongside them. Red wine, cheese and strawberries. Feather pillows and a house with fresh breath. Dustless candles with unspent wicks. Dog-earred books beside a favourite chair. Cups full of weather, like milk rolling in a flurry with russet tea. The colour red, and a motionless stomach.

No urges to weep while sitting still. No blame thrown about like rice at a wedding (it kills birds, I'm told). No longer a victim in a world of plenty. Oh, to no longer be the victim.

I am rather maudlin today, it would seem.

We're still not speaking, but the quiet is not entirely unwelcome.