Driftwood, hollow and of no use
I am driftwood. I’m drifting. Drifting nowhere significant. No end in sight. Eroding, losing all discernible shape. Allowing the world to wash away the edges, to creep into the cracks and destroy my origin. Piece by piece I’m losing all recognition of who I am, what I want to be, and even more so, how to get there safely without drifting into oblivion beforehand.
I came across a fork in the road last night. I felt a bit like Robert Frost. Except the fork in the road then proceeded to break off into another fork. Had Frost been walking a similar wood in foreign lands I’m sure he would have amended The Road Not Taken. One fork in the road is expected, almost planned by nature, two is simply out of the question. Just once I want a fucking spoon. Just once I want to realize where I am, where I’m going, learn how to utilize a map for more than scratch paper. It seems everywhere I turn there’s another fork, and another, and another, until I’m so completely lost and have given up all hope of recovering my initial path. I can’t make decisions anymore. Don’t ask me to. I’m just going to drift for a bit, unless I drown.
I came across a fork in the road last night. I felt a bit like Robert Frost. Except the fork in the road then proceeded to break off into another fork. Had Frost been walking a similar wood in foreign lands I’m sure he would have amended The Road Not Taken. One fork in the road is expected, almost planned by nature, two is simply out of the question. Just once I want a fucking spoon. Just once I want to realize where I am, where I’m going, learn how to utilize a map for more than scratch paper. It seems everywhere I turn there’s another fork, and another, and another, until I’m so completely lost and have given up all hope of recovering my initial path. I can’t make decisions anymore. Don’t ask me to. I’m just going to drift for a bit, unless I drown.
posted by Chishiki Lauren at 8:06 PM
3 Comments:
Don't tell the Native Americans driftwood has no use. I have run across a lot of driftwood in my rompings, and I've learned that there is no better piece of fuel than a dry piece of driftwood. It is incredibly hard, and burns forever. But I don't need to tell you that.
As far as your failure to realize who you want to be, I think we've all shared that doubt. Try not to over plan your future. It will unfold on its own. If all else fails, go right, then left, then right, right, then left, then right, then left,left.
That's a poor and abrupt answer to a deep concern. And I know I didn't do it justice.
When I said we all shared the doubt about not knowing what we wanted to be, I obviously meant ourselves, and not you.
Perhaps it's time I returned the knife...
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