Occasionally, you'll have one of those days where your eyes see everything in a soft focus and you can stare into space for an indeterminate amount of time with only a throbbing pain behind your left eye for company. Some days your worry and fury and constant discontented internal dialogue will take leave and you'll be left with a watery landscape of emptiness and indifference, just there, doing nothing.
On these days, you'll go to your bed in broad daylight and think of nothing and do nothing and for a moment, feel like your existence is nothing, just waiting to be something. All the energy spent hoping and longing and being ashamed suddenly seems wasted and you consider for a moment whether it would be so bad after all just to give up on all your dreams and spend your days instead like a misplaced housewife, making cakes laced with despair and unfulfillment.
These days are rare but when they come around they are accompanied with some bizarre relief to be able to escape from your mostly solitary company and just be. Just exist without moving forward or backward or anywhere apart from a series of moments strung together by hazy indifference.
And these are the days when you'll awaken from an absence from your own head and see that there is a fly in your tea. And that will be a perfect metaphor for your life.
This may sound like I've just been on a substance-induced trip, but my life isn't interesting enough for that.