Fondly: Circles


Small, aimless circles.

The floorboard creaked with every anguished step as I paced about my sparse little bungalow. Smoke hung in every room; every corner, nook and cranny. These small, aimless circles always lead me to the same spot, staring at my computer screen, as blank as my gaze. I took (another) drink, and paced about some more, searching my mind for something—anything.

Distractions didn’t work. I thought that maybe if I scrubbed my toilet with all the fervor of an obsessive compulsive germaphobe, grand inspiration might be conjured by the alluring combination of cleaning products.

No dice.

I sighed heavily, and went to the kitchen to fix (another) drink. My brain was quickly becoming a very random modern jazz solo with no structure outside of beginnings and ends.

It was all just noise at this point.

I sat down at my desk and put my hands on the keyboard, hoping they might do something on their own, but they merely sat quietly, waiting for instructions.

“Perhaps,” I thought, “I should just give up.”

Maybe I had no right even trying. Maybe this wasn’t why I was here. I began to think about khaki trousers and golf shirts. I tried to imagine myself as that guy.

As someone else entirely.

I entertained the notion for a bit, tickled at first by the thought of such normalcy. I took (another) drink and stood up, still thinking about big houses, big cars and big families. What if I was wrong this whole time? What if I were really put on this earth to be an accountant? What if everything I had dedicated my life to was mere folly?

“Maybe this is why there’s no longer a Kurt Cobain,” I thought quietly.

Every ashtray sat full of half-smoked butts extinguished by neglect. Each abandoned smoke inspired another as I paced aimlessly about the bungalow in search of something that was not there.

No matter where I looked, all he found was smoke.

This had been going on for weeks now, these small circles through the house. The heavy sighs and blank pages staring up at me, shaking a bony finger in my general direction.

Outside, dogs barked and lawn mowers roared. Birds sang, people walked and life progressed. I thought about joining them, for a brief moment before resuming my small, aimless circles.

I took (another) drink and sat back down.

I didn’t look good in khaki anyway.



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One Response to “Fondly: Circles”

  1. Dre Says:

    Cool read! I sometimes question my position in life, too. Then, I snap out of it–I either s– or get off the pot! (lol)..

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