30

This was not the anticipated feeling. That a distance could separate me from myself, this is not something I expected. Still, I see what I am. I look from the many angles, digital and analog, the practical, the technical. I see what I am. There is a mirror which daily acknowledges and ignores my most important strengths and weakest shortcomings.
I cannot ignore the clock of my own reflection. Such a reflection will not lie to you. That image is the only real token of time. A second, in the minute, counting a week, which will comprise the years... and then we ask, "Oh, where has the time gone."

This was not the anticipated feeling. That I could be aware of all the shortcomings. The theoreticals that are bantered amongst the most diligent academics. I know only what I know. But I hear the other tid bits. I hear some words from my far gone potential. An echo of a time that screamed an unmistakable logic to me, that is what pierces the sides of my skull this time. But they are distinct and I do hear them... yes, they sound like they are making sense.

This was not the anticipated feeling, that I would lecture anyone. I do not have that right. I do not have the experience. Yet, amidst logistical loopholes, mired in the everyday - in places where waking and sleeping are the only two alarms on both sides of the day - I do question. A constant curiosity. In contrast my friends ask me, "What did you figure out?"... or, "What did you learn?"...ultimately, "What is your point?"...

This was not the anticipated feeling. But I cannot repeat that. I cannot reiterate such precision in good conscience. To plagerize on perfection implicates pretention. Such alliteration assumes a certain similarity. But the point... that is the point... what is the point... if there is one... and on and on. A clever cycle of neverending perplexion... ending with... some... elipse...

This was not the anticipated feeling. But the feeling stays anyway. There was a time when a certain sensation might attune itself personal biorythyms or ecstasies. So this time no longer exists. This was not the anticipated feeling. That a distance could separate me from myself, this is not something I expected. The unexpected continues to be the call of the day.

This was not the anticipated feeling, me longing for a specific remedy. A prescription, an attestation, any reaction. But there is none. Maybe some conclusion makes sense, but ultimately a conclusion, only acknowledges a settlement. A settlement supposes an understanding. This is something I cannot suppose.