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Hi. I know i haven't posted here for quite a while. Starting a new job and studying full time has really eaten into my writing time in the past few months. I hope to get back into doing some more creative writing, but I can't say for sure if I'll be able to make the time.

The only thing I can do is try to give myself a bit of time each day to focus on my writing, even if it is only a few minutes.

I wrote this little piece just now. It is a bit of a stream-of-consciousness type piece about a few thoughts and feelings I've been having lately. Mainly in regards to my new job. Hope you enjoy it, and hope I can keep writing some more stuff in the future.


Untitled
By Tim Harvey


I watch the smoke drift out of the tip of my cigarette. It curls so gently in the morning breeze. A blue ribbon of translucent energy unfurling in front of me. The early sun highlights the smoke, it is neon blue. As the wind kicks up the smoke curls faster, dancing through the air before disappearing into nothing. When the breeze dies the neon ribbon returns, elegant in its simplicity. It doesn't end, like a magician pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve. It keeps pouring out of my cigarette.

I sit in the sun alone, too early for everyone else. My mind is numb from lack of sleep, my body aching and stiff. I tried imagining myself walking down a flight of stairs. When I reach the bottom, I will fall asleep. The stairs never end though. I tried counting down from one hundred, when I reach zero, I tell myself, I will fall asleep. My heart raced as I got to ten. The few minutes of counting became my life.

Nine. My heart is thudding in my chest. What happens when I stop counting?
Eight. It cannot end. Seven. I am too awake to fall asleep. Six. Too tired to stay awake. I roll over, the illusion is shattered now. Five. It won't work. Four. I still don't know what will happen when I run out of numbers. Three. It's too soon. Two. Close. One.

Zero.

I am still awake.

Now I sit outside in the sun watching my cigarette. The smoke changes with the rise and fall of the breeze. A different pattern, a different dance. The ribbon widens, becomes a jellyfish. Transparent, but glowing. Changes. I think of my life, and the changes I am going through. One minute everything is set, the plan is made. But then it changes. It is all new. I rush into things too fast because they excite me. I cancel my plans, make new ones. Then I settle and become frightened that I haven't thought anything through. I have made a mistake.
I have a new life, a new plan. Everything is new and exciting. Then old things come back. Old feelings, old habits. They don't fit in with my new life. But they force their way back into my world. I become afraid again.

The smoke glides gently through the air. What happens when the cigarette goes out? I miss my friends. They are here, but I don't know them. Maybe I never did. Maybe I'm too tired to remember. I cough, shattering the illusion. The cigarette falls out of my hand and onto the cold cement. The smoke is gone.

I sat there worrying about what would happen when the cigarette goes out. When it burns its way to the filter. Would it burn my fingers? Now the cigarette lies on the floor below my chair. I didn't plan for that. I have no idea what is coming for me next.

I worry about what path to choose. I waste time over analysing every detail of everything. There is no right path. The only right thing to do is start walking.

I write, and worry about what happens when I run out of words. But I haven't written like this for a very long time. It's more like a few months, but it feels like forever. I write easier and more freely than I ever have. I write like I am drunk. The words drift from my head, down my arms and into my fingertips. They slide out of my sleeve like a magician's handkerchief.

They will end eventually.

But I don't have to worry about that. I am having too much fun enjoying the trick.