And then, paying it
“Pay attention. It’s all about paying attention. Attention is vitality. It
connects you with others. It makes you eager. Stay eager.”
― Susan Sontag
What if life is like a movie, and we’re constantly being watched, observed beyond the point of recognition (recognition to you, my dear), viewed through the lens of others as if we are the movie stars in this reality that doesn’t seem true?
We draw attention. We keep it. We sometimes pay it. We lose it. We have little of it. We have an infinite amount of it.
You capture my full attention, and I’m not entirely sure what it means. Some days, you’ve got me hooked like a teen girl fanning over Post Malone — fuck, I fan girl over him even as an adult. But some days? Some days, I lose all focus dreaming about all of your intricacies, as if perchance I’ll understand you deeper as I let my mind wander toward who you are. Who you really are.
I look myself in the mirror and revert back to the bemusing thoughts I’ve had of yesteryear: who the fuck am I?
My attention is drawn. Drawn to you. Drawn to me. Drawn to the universe that is like a bubble of a movie in which we all have a part to play, sometimes crossing paths but sometimes, steering clear.
My attention is paid. Paid as if its a debt I’ve owed that’s much too long overdue.
I can hardly comprehend the feelings I have for simply being alive, in this strange fucking world.
I kiss death upon the lips on occasion, when my attention has been lost…
But then I regain my momentum by drawing attention from others. Other beings like the flowers and the trees and the wolves and the deer. Other entities like you and me and who we really are.
My breath is taken away when I walk into that field of flowers I’ve drawn for myself, as if they’re really real.
I lose all focus when inhaling the aromas of my dreams yet to become reality.
My attention is being torn into a million tiny pieces — every which one of them yearning to be whole inside me.
What do I do?
