The world keeps changing and it’s changing me too. I don’t always know what it’s changing me to. If its a good thing, or I am just warping. Or maybe my vision is unclear. Maybe I need a new frame of reference. But my eyes are getting older, and maybe I need to let the other senses tell me what I see.
The rain trickles in a garden, feeding spring flowers. then summer fattens the fruit, till the children come running.
I am in the house, with a blanket over my head. I am watching the news, and I am flicking through my feed. I know I was trying to find something, but now I am just amassing information.
There must have been something more i was doing. But as I get older my memory fades. Maybe I will have to rely on my instincts instead to navigate me through.
I see the silhoettes of other people through the glowing box. Real like me, telling me about themselves even though I don’t know them. I can start to think I do. And I touch my fingers on the screen in a silent wonder. But nothing is there anyways. And I don’t really know them. I only get a snippet of a story. A fragment.
But if i get off this ferris wheel, what I was trying to do, whatever it was, really will be gone. I see myself shrinking in the mirror.