In Through the Out Door

A few days ago every second of my every day required the utmost of my attention. My decision making process was in full tilt, and I was fully immersed in the music. Every fiber, every synapse, every cell and hair follicle, every emotion and feeling was screaming at full pitch. I was in motion. I was vibrating. I was vital.
Yesterday, the work completed, I became meaningless. I was without purpose. It was all I could do to makes sense of just what I would do next. Eat? Breathe? Read? Write? Shit? Eat again? I wandered. I searched. I felt so small. A microcosm in a heaving world of lunacy. I was lost and felt that life and my portion in it was so infinitely futile.
I woke this morning determined to enjoy the peace, the tranquility, for as long as it lasts, as this inertia soon, too, will pass.
Decompression is a bitch.
There will be a day when I will be called upon to truly live it. And I must say, I am ready.