reflections from choppy water

"That's an interesting assortment of items, today" he said.

The cashier at Target. An aging man with grey hair, receding from his forehead as if it was trying to find safety. Scared. However, his face gentle, kind, and welcoming. I chuckled and agreed, noting that I only buy items as I need them instead of stocking my shelves in preparation for the void of activities planned.

Only buying the items I need. Chips. I ate half the bag today. The Rockstar drink remains chilled in my refrigerator. The picture frames remain empty.

I was hesitant to buy the frames. They are for two pictures, but I question why I was hesitant. Was the $1.99 frame out of my budget? No. Am I scared to provide a permanent home for something that always holds the possibility of being temporary? Do I adorn the casualness of moving the photographs freely? There has to be a reason I was so hesitant to purchase silly picture frames, but I'm not sure why.

Last night was terrible. I tossed and turned, having nightmares throughout the evening. Waking up in a sweat. Heartbreak. Horror. I saw loved ones, new and old, vanishing before me. The dream is a bit obscure now as I write this hours later, but it was still an unpleasant one. I woke up at 6am, unable to fall back asleep. The day has dragged on.

During work, I decided to occupy myself with a hobby and attempted to play a new song on my guitar. "I won't see you tonight, Part 1". I've got most of it down, but the more I try to perfect it, the more I realize my time is wasted towards being something I can't. I won't be well-versed with a guitar. I can't. My hands are small. At best, I'll be able to play some power chords and settle with that. Sometimes I question why I try.

I wanted to spent another $2 for a cup of Honduran or El Salvadorian coffee at the coffee shop, but I was pressed for time. A mediocre workout took place below the coffee shop instead, and I spent 10 minutes at home to help with the garage sale. I didn't have time to reflect on the choppy waters; perhaps tomorrow.

The night grows on. Work is done, my phone and any forms of social outreach lay quiet throughout the day. I may explore a bar with my cousin to talk about things; life, love, liberty, leisure.

No home runs, no strikeouts. A measly base hit. Perhaps I'll try to steal second, and make up for lost ground.

Music: Dream Koala - We Can't Be Friends