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State of the Hungarian

The start is the end.

There is nothing ominous in that, only that I see every day as a beginning and an end. Like each day exists on its own, unconnected to the others, an entity oblivious of tomorrow or yesterday, and only I add in those other concepts.

This is and is not how it works. (Synesthesia messes with my perceptions.)

I am in a state of neglect. But I am never forgetting.

This summer has had so many good things about it: flowers blooming on my porch, an affectionate S.O. to cuddle and kiss, trips to a cavern and an amusement park and to the middle of nowhere to check in with the fam. There was overtime - part of a steady job that pays me too much to label myself a starving artist anymore. There was a murder mystery party and there will be another one next weekend. There were walks in the park, and laughs with coworkers in and outside the office because some of them are close friends. I bought my dream couch (thanks Value City Furniture). I gazed deeply into the eyes of strangers and turned my brain off.

Every day is another chance to excel, to create a breeze that reaches no one but that someone is watching me form nonetheless. I am seen when I am blind and heard when I am silent. I cannot nullify anything, even the things I did not do.

I use the word "just" too much and not enough. Go ahead and put "just" in every sentence you say and think, and you will find you can simultaneously mean it and not. If words are reality, I am a ghost you can touch.

I occupied obscure free moments (away from the moonlight, always away) wondering why I am alive. Why does this question matter? Why do I ask so many questions I will never have answered? I can use my creativity to solve those issues in ways that satisfy, if only my pea brain alone. (Really, think about it: the brain is so small in comparison to the universe!)

I need to adapt to the color green.

The things I miss hone my senses.

I buzz with electricity that has yet to find a way out of my body. It zips around because what else is there to do? Can I be at peace in a world that says 'be busy'? How much control do I have over my own thoughts?

The end is the start.

© 2017 by Ameka Menes.

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