Thursday, 30 September 2010


Each application takes something from you. The first few are special, you check your emails and you wait for the post that never comes. Quiet rejection then becomes normal; you apply with less commitment and become cold to the nothingness that greets your efforts. Time alone is forced upon you in the hours between your old start and your old finish and you notice what you once rushed passed. Your highs and lows also struggle without the restrictions they once felt, taking you to places that keep you going and to places you never want to go again. Simple conversations are hard, you're happy to discuss the state of the world but you stutter an answer to questions once embraced or ignored. What do you do? Reminds you of what you want to do and ruins the answer with truth. Such conversations are avoided, such friends become less involved in this new world of yours, in which you dwell on the remainder of an existence that once knew how to exist. Hope remains, though the months wear away its soft exterior and leave a hard raw material that provides a base to roll you over each morning, most mornings. What's left of you fights the empty space it once filled, looks with uncertainty on the certainty of others and writes another application.

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