feelings of inadequacy


as the express Via-Rail train from Montreal to Toronto speeds past this bumpy, pokey bus, i can’t help but reflect on missed opportunities and untaken chances.
I’m struck by the dank prospect that forevermore the trip home will be accompanied by anxiety over the increasingly lengthy list of contacts i am unable to maintain to my satisfaction. Nostalgia will replace a genuine sense of security and happiness. The buildings’ new coats of paint will be evaluated through the equally new shade of my rose-coloured glasses.
I continue to drift from person-to-person, feeding off moments of intense connectedness in passionate conversation – and worry about the possibilities for this continuing. Something, however, needs to help overcome the aching maw in the nape of my neck caused by how far i have come, how long it has taken, yet how much further there is yet to go.
sometimes i wonder if forgetting would not be a blessing in disguise – and then a stifled moan of anguish, bittersweet, rises. i cannot, shall not, let it go. not yet.


One thought on “feelings of inadequacy

  1. See now we have a contradiction to sort out, since you recently said “A red lens when shooting does not constitute art.” What am I to do? Shall I say The Illusionist constitutes art so as to validate your rather intense blog entry? Nay. Nay I say (feelest thou my dismay?). I must now ruminate on this irreconcilable dichotomy and reach a satisfying verdict, lest I go mad from grief and cliché.

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