THE INTIMACY OF BOREDOM

Intimacy.

In, to me, see.

What do you see when you look into me?

Do I let you look into me? Am I willing?

I am willing to let you see into me only as far as I am willing to look myself.

I’d rather speed up. I have things to do, and when I’m done those things, I have other things to do that I categorize as more fun.

But still things. And still to do.

I learned that fast was good. Busy meant I wasn’t going to fall behind and was a good boy. (And now that I’ve mentioned the word “Busy”, this is the point where I start moving my hands around quickly, explaining to you that I’m not “busy” busy, just doing a lot of things, and it feels good, and honestly, don’t worry, I’m not like, one of those people that works too much, and…).

When I’m doing stuff, I’m not bored, and when I’m not bored, I’m succeeding.

The point is there are lots of reasons for me to not slow down.

If I slow down, I’ll have to sit with my boredom. As I release the urge to scratch the itch of my boredom, I slowly start to see myself emerge.

I might have to be with what I don’t want to show you.

Who shows up in the intimacy of your boredom?

Who is there for you to sit with?