the color of jade

I’ve been feeling jaded. ironic, since the year’s literally just 5 days in but it is what it is. J-a-d-e, rhymes with f-a-d-e. funny it struck me only now. And jades a very pretty color. My birthstone, so needlessly, my favorite color- only I didn’t want to turn into it.

Does it have to do with the fact that I feel I don’t belong here anymore? Not here, as in here. As though my part in this pandemonium is over. I feel like a tree at the side of the stage, knowing I need to be someplace, but not quite knowing where. I don't know where but just not 'here'.

Not like there isn’t enough on my plate already. I have lists, dreams, a habit tracker, a system I’ve constructed which I follow like clockwork. I do all of it religiously, but is it me who’s doing it, or is someone living this static life out for me? Is this what burn-out feels like? I desperately need a sign – something from this so-called universe Rhonda Byrne and her cult prophesy about. But I’m not getting any and jade’s turning jadi-er as we rant. Know what I mean? Where’s magic when you need it huh. Rhonda are you listening?

Nothing excites me- not new pieces of writing – (piece of my heart that one), not swimming, not trying new things, no one, nothing, nada-zilch- zero. Tick-tock, time goes on, and I’m suspended in a halo of jade.

I am a machine that wakes up every morning, writes in my journal, drinks four liters of water, goes to work, talks to people, comes home, has a social life, watches Netflix, reads a book and nods of to sleep. Rinse. repeat. I do not know the person who is living my life, and I wish I hadn’t been so fixated with jade as a color. I am not good at talking about this stuff, neither am I good at the so-called processing of feelings. So this is my form of self -medication. I’m writing what comes to me zero edit, or a re-read, hoping the jade’s out of the bottle, and tomorrow I wake up feeling yellow. Yellow is who I am. I don’t know what happened and when. but as of tonight, I hate the color of jade.