there is a feeling, over sushi, when you can suddenly see a whole lifeworld moving away from you, like like a severed raft in the water. this teeming structure, whose vertices are everything you could ever want in the world. the entire emotional apparatus of a life, a particular one that would never be yours again.
you have conviction, these days, that there's nothing you truly want.
you are passionate about: going on short walks. stopping at the grocery store on the way home from work. making big salads with radicchio in your metal bowl that's exactly the right size. taking your headphones on and off every 5 minutes on repeat as you continually reevaluate whether the fresh air through your ears feels better than the music or the other way around. in essence, very little.
more than ever the tone of things is set by great tides, entirely outside of understanding. happiness and sadness washing you onto foreign shores, back and forth. being sick all the time has made you take nothing for granted. walking, or just sitting with coffee at your laptop, will be the happiest you've ever felt. this is a way of clinging to the raft.
mindfulness as a way of chasing of small euphorias: cope for being someone who doesn't want anything. yet maybe most people don't want like this, and so it's cope for something entirely different, for feeling like you need some overarching frame.
L is like this too you think, needs to feel a certain way about the world. she talks about it last week: feeling like the thread had been severed, that the faith was gone. but mostly she has it: a kind of totalizing outlook, perfect clarity. perhaps this is the one thing you truly understand about each other.
it seems there is a wanting that's less actual desire and more an organizing principle. something more like ontology.