a very gray day...

I'm sitting on my milo-colored couch in roughly the same position as I have for the past three days. And though I choose not to, I am physically able to remove myself from this life-sucking nest and this is what sets today apart from the past two. I’m overwhelmed by a consuming boredom that makes me think of Keri. I look out to the ocean and hope for a calming peace, but find only sorrow.

A gray sky, meeting a gray sea, and the lack of a notable horizon as though there is no beginning, no end, and no purpose.

I am not sad, angry, frustrated. Not happy, enthusiastic, or even content. I think I could die right now and, if given the chance to reflect on it, I don’t think I’d be fazed. I don’t care enough to do myself in and I don’t want to exert the energy.

So I just sit here and deepen the indentation in the couch, take in the stillness of the room, listen to the crashing waves, watch the flies buzzing aimlessly, watch the trees sway dully in the breeze, and feel empty.

The gray seems to be consuming everything—the green of the trees, the brown cliff face, this room, and my head. And, I’m pretty sure that soon, it’ll all be one large mass of gray that will simply be eaten by this life-sucking couch.