Slip

Some days it's easy to remember that I'm the same person I was a decade prior. My adult temperament and attempts at tolerance fall away, leaving a familiar (and all-too-comfortable) darkness. One that corners me, dipping my brim and lids. One that allows New York hardcore to sound relevant, and the manipulation of negative energy to seem productive (it can be). I float through, past hours, past people, detached; amazed at the faith I can normally muster. Where's the spring of my self-belief, and what weight causes it's tides? Why the ebb today, and yes, yesterday? Fatigue, and preemptive adjustment to imminent change are certainly triggers. As is work; an abundance professionally, a shortage closer to home. A return from a quiet cabin to the squeal of orange alerts, diet, addiction; they're possibilities. In the end, this line of interrogation is only of marginal benefit. Reliably, my mood will shift; today's wind is tomorrow's breeze.