Bowl of Soup

So it's time for me to write something again, isn't it? Well, I should probably be getting to bed at some point soon, and was actually planning to do so an hour ago. But as evidenced by the fact that I am just now writing, that clearly did not happen. And I'm not tired either, so it may not happen for another couple of hours.

Although, I do feel rather calm and relaxed right around now. I'm happy things have simmered down as they have. Part of that is probably from the bowl of soup I just had though. It was quite nice. And maybe that's all we need in life--a nice, warm bowl of spicy soup at the end of the day to just let everything else fade away and disappear.

I look back on just 24 hours ago...what my thoughts had been, who I had been mad at, what I had returned from, where my feelings were, how I was acting...and it's all so insignificant. It seems as though it may have been months ago, or even years. In a way, it's a very nice sense of perspective right now, knowing that none of it matters. But on the other hand, it seems so sudden, so detached, almost frighteningly so...

Even in the past few days, everything that has happened seems like some sort of a weird dream that I fell into and am still trying to sort out. I'm not sure what has and hasn't happened. Some of what I know has is absolutely unbelievable, and other things that didn't happen I wonder at out of the expectation of seeing them take place. I feel adrift from reality and separate from all of life...and I really am not sure what to do about it; whether I should actually try changing that or not. I'll give it the weekend, and probably a couple more bowls of soup, to figure some of it out.