fills you up with emptiness, makes no sense but really describes it. i tend to stare at things for a while when i am being depressingly reflective. i look at the tiny things in life, imagine what life would be like in that microcosm of whatever stupid thing i am staring at. tonight, it was my soup. potato soup. i watched the starch particles cycle in and out of the bottom of the pot, watched some cling to the sides in a desperate but futile attempt to free themselves from the heat. i watched the identifiable particles of food, the onions, the carrots. i remembered back to cutting them, imagining which ones were which and trying to see the resemblance of individual cuts i had made. i watched the steam pour off of the pot, examining the bubbles as they popped and looked to the bottom of the pan in their vacuum. i almost felt guilty for eating it afterwards.
i guess by looking at things at that level in that detail makes me feel small, invisible, and able to hide in spaces myself. for some reason, isolation relieves the loneliness. when i am with others, i have no excuse for being lonely.
sinko