The Daylight Here

To my mother, I'll be sorry that I gotta go To my brother, I'll be sorry that I gotta go To you I wish that I could say I wish you well But I think I'll be waiting until I'm honestly able.

I wrote a long and involved post about how I nearly had a nervous breakdown at a Harris Teeter a couple of weeks ago. I didn't particularly care for the prose, it contained a lot of superfluous information. In it I talked about how I couldn't stop my legs from shaking, how I felt like I was going to collapse and just keep falling. It mentioned that it was raining, and that I yelled in my car - Details all somewhat relevant to the experience. But it also included my five item shopping list and other idiosyncratic tidbits. When I was writing the post it felt like I was being interesting and descriptive. In retrospect, a mere ten minutes later, it just sounded dumb.

When gone I have sworn that I will worry not Of satisfaction, justice, or the will of God I'm not sure there's any difference in the three Whatever the conscience decrees I hope we both feel right.

Crooked or kind, if I'm free, if I'm fine Either way, whatever I do Whichever coast, there'll be room there for ghosts Either way, I'll be thinking of you.

So I tossed the post, and instead am posting a song.