Definition:
static |ˈstatik|
adjective
1 lacking in movement, action, or change, esp. in a way viewed as undesirable or uninteresting : demand has grown in what was a fairly staticmarket | the whole ballet appeared too static.• Computing (of a process or variable) not able to be changed during a set period, for example, while a program is running.2 Physics concerned with bodies at rest or forces in equilibrium. Often contrasted with dynamic .• (of an electric charge) having gathered on or in an object that cannot conduct a current.• acting as weight but not moving.nouncrackling or hissing noises on a telephone, radio, or othertelecommunications system.• short for static electricity .• informal angry or critical talk or behavior : the reception was going sour, breaking up into static.
In all the above ways. Lacking in change, unable to change, unmoving but yet still buzzing, crackling, hissing, angry. I'm everywhere and nowhere at once in my mind, consumed simultaneously by the desire to hyper-act and let this unbearably humid evening sedate and dissolve my very being. I feel everything but can do nothing. I'm like this far more than I let on, far enough down this cliched metaphor for life that is a path, far enough to know that this is temporary; that it's fabricated by my mind (though unconsciously), and that change will come eventually, but not far enough to avoid being wrapped up in its unpleasantness.
(Wow, I take on a really weird syntax when I angst. My faux-tortured-poet soul has a mind of its own. . . I realize this may be disruptive to the rest of the angsting, but make of this what you will.)
In all the above ways. Lacking in change, unable to change, unmoving but yet still buzzing, crackling, hissing, angry. I'm everywhere and nowhere at once in my mind, consumed simultaneously by the desire to hyper-act and let this unbearably humid evening sedate and dissolve my very being. I feel everything but can do nothing. I'm like this far more than I let on, far enough down this cliched metaphor for life that is a path, far enough to know that this is temporary; that it's fabricated by my mind (though unconsciously), and that change will come eventually, but not far enough to avoid being wrapped up in its unpleasantness.
(Wow, I take on a really weird syntax when I angst. My faux-tortured-poet soul has a mind of its own. . . I realize this may be disruptive to the rest of the angsting, but make of this what you will.)
2 comments:
Girl. I feel you. Don't you just feel like you're going to go insane in your own skin?
Rar rar rarrr
I like the faux-tortured-poet soul. It's electric and relatable and beautiful.
I totally get it.
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