S P A C E

S P A C E by Rina Pritchard

It was yesterday when Facebook posts were either inner monologues or rib-tickling, witty remarks on a good day. I still look forward to Instagram captions that aren’t too far from diary entries, ones that do not yield to back-and-forth harangues in the comment section, but rather support, or better, no comments at all.

Just space.

But why can’t we just listen?

Holding space for others is not natural. Because while we itch and fidget with this relentless dire need to speak over listen, nothing, let alone effective, gets transmitted to the receiving end.

The ego merely does not exist, it pervades. It pools around. Bleeds.

How do we notice what’s unfolding when we are too preoccupied with overlooking? How do we ponder the mystery? Wistfully stare into questions?

I neither know how to feel nor know what to believe on most days. That’s okay. Not knowing is terrifying. But it allows for receiving. Committing is an uphill battle when you are often inspired by contradictory things, people even. I bop from one polarizing state to the other, from self-deprecation to self-idealization. I am a POS to those close to me and a saccharine joy the next. It’s paralyzing most times and I often do nothing, like almost not posting this. If I never knew how to commit to a 9-to-5 job or how I feel about today’s chaos, it was maybe my middle-of-the-road approach and my processing of information, that came at me in droves.

My neurosis can account for that.

But I’ll remember that it is words with which I involve myself; artists whom I aspire to, but am careful not to envy. And the illusory space I hope to find myself in with the fiction I write.

Pause. Quietude.

I am not different from most. I am neither special nor spectacular. I just am.

As I expose myself to new experiences, walk new paths, and condition new habits, I’ll hope to disempower older, useless ones. I will follow the conception of thought as it shifts and shapes into some matter that words, careless ones, will fail to capture.

We won’t always have the right words to express what’s inhabiting the mind through entries, captions or prayers.

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