Auto-Focus has been disabled

I was tired, sleepy even, just a little while ago. But now that I find myself alone in my apartment with nothing so pressing that it can't wait until tomorrow, I have become restless. My mind won't shut down, but it refuses to focus. It meanders wildly from topic to tangent and zones out into some dimension where all of my problems seem to display themselves like album art in iTunes. My fidgety mind seems to have also rung the wariness out of my muscles like water out of a soaked t-shirt, leaving them damp and heavy, but no longer sopping with exhaustion. I found myself pacing about the living room staring spacily out the window, even though the blinds are drawn.

My brain keeps insisting on working it way into dusty files that should have been packed away in a backroom long ago. But my librarian is just as sentimental and only slightly more organized than I am. So there are a stack of files tucked into a deep drawer in her desk that she just can't bring herself to file away and risk their quickened deterioration. But these aren't current files. They are only memories. I must remember that these moments are gone. These people and these relationships are not static. They have changed. Some have changed so much they have become unrecognizable. Some have become toxic. A few I couldn't even tell you how they have changed because they have grown too far apart from me. But I still cling to how they were. From time to time I ponder over what might have grown if only that seed had found good, dark soil instead of dry, cracked sand.

I can't expect you to save me from my decisions. The you that would have saved me and the me you would have risked it all for are dead now. They are only images, smells, impressions on my gray matter. And I should never have expected you to save me then. How can I still hope you will?

I'm sick of thinking about how it used to be, how it could have been, how it might be, how it should be. I need to concentrate on how it is.

My knight in shining flannel is not coming. Where do I go from here?