Pulled Apart
There’s a phrase, keeping it together, which applies to my life. I have a hard time doing it. Some people seem to be built like walls, brick and mortar, everything in place. I, however, feel like a loose accretion of rocks and gravel. Bits falling off, dust trailing behind, nothing stuck anywhere that will stick for long. It means that when I think I’ve got it all together something is likely to fall off.
It’s an exhausting way to live, but it’s my lot and I make do. The benefit, I guess, is that I get to pick and choose which bits I keep, which explains, perhaps, why I feel so adaptable while occasionally falling into a heap at my own feet. I can literally pull myself together after whatever catastrophe, big or small, comes to visit. I suppose too it’s why I like to have time alone, because I’m always trying to figure out where things go and how I fit together.
Of course, maybe that’s just nature itself. Mountains might look permanent, but they come and go. Rivers remake themselves all the time, despite the best efforts of humanity. And it’s estimated that 99 percent of all species that have ever lived are now extinct. So, maybe we’re not meant to keep it together. It’s seems likely in the end that the universe will win and everything will be pulled apart.